Its strange how a tragic event can change your whole outlook on the silliest of things. Take rain for example. Rain is rain. There is nothing overly special or frightening about rain, though certain times some are more grateful for it than others. For me, rain is the sound of sadness and thankfulness at the same time.
The week my brother Mark died my whole world pretty much stopped. It wasn't until we were back home from South Dakota that I actually became aware of things around me. The first memory I have of being 100% aware of was the rain falling outside my window. I remember thinking how beautiful it sounded, how peaceful, how cleansing, how perfect. You have to understand, the rain and snow usually falls straight down here where we live. There is no violent wind whipping it around. It is beautiful and peaceful.
As I sat listening to the rain, I cried. It wasn't just a little cry, it was a long, completely overtake you kind of cry. I cried because I missed Mark. I cried because Mark was missing the rain. I cried because I was upset. I cried because I could cry. I cried because I was lucky enough to be sitting there listening to the rain. I cried because I thought of how many people NEVER stop and thank God for the chance to hear, feel, taste, see, and smell the rain.
Now by this time I'm about all cried out. It felt so good to be out of tears and still be surrounded by the sounds of rain. It was like all the burdens of my heart and soul had been washed away. So now when it rains I cry and let the rain and my tears wash away the burdens of the past and the present. Then I thank God for His blessings and sleep soundly for a change.
Its strange how a tragic event can change your whole outlook on the silliest of things.
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