I gave in

For Uncle Tom-- in answer to the question about the name of this blog. This was the first post I wrote but then I took it down for some reason... so here it is, re-posted. This was originally from maybe last fall some time?

I gave in this evening, in two ways. I started a blog (at the long-time encouragement of my friend K), and I played in the rain.... a joyous happening from which I derived the name of this new blog.

You see, I have often felt a somewhat pent-up desire to write, in a way that would be heard. Journals never quite work for me, because the only things that I am compelled to write down are things I want to shout from rooftops, or share with every stranger on the street, or call a friend because I HAVE TO TELL IT.

So, here we are.

This morning was rough. Down, depressed, sad, melancholy. However you want to call it, I was in a sort of mood where I struggled to hold back tears during my first class of the day, because my heart was overflowing with sadness and discouragement and self-deprecation. Lies, all of it, lies of Satan that I am sick of listening to but struggle to overcome.

I had overslept this morning and missed my usual Wednesday morning run with my two friends & neighbors. One more failure to add to the list. And so I resolved to run later in the day... alone. This is a feat for me. I am terr-i-ble at running by myself. I usually make it about 10 minutes and quit, because I don't have the motivation without my friends there to cheer me on.

But today was going to be different. I resolved that I would run the complete 3 mile loop we do in the mornings, and I would do it without stopping, walking, resting (other than those pesky, yet gratefully anticipated traffic lights). I managed to get most of my homework finished and I set out for my run, iPod in pocket, "pump up" playlist selected, feeling good. I noticed the heaviness and darkness in the sky, but it didn't look too much like rain yet.

I headed out on our typical route, and thought to myself around the halfway point how amazingly good I felt, considering that afternoons are usually my energy-low and my worst time for running. However, as I turned the corner and began the last mile, I started to anticipate "Agony Hill" as we only-semi-jokingly call the gradual but long incline up the street leading to our neighborhood. I stood on the corner waiting for the final traffic light of the route to turn green, huffing and puffing and mentally calculating where I could stop and walk without being spotted by any of my friends or running partners. Though the thought of finishing the run completely was misery-inducing, I also knew that I would be incredibly disappointed in myself if I made it so close to the end, but didn't finish.

Then came my savior. Well, not really, but for sure the heaven-sent (literally) savior of my self-esteem today. My 15 year old neighbor, the eldest son of a family who I'm very to, rode up on his bike behind me, returning from the gym at my college where he had been playing pickup basketball. Since we live on the same street, he was headed home the same route as me. In a rare show of 15 year old chivalry, Jack rode his bike slowly behind me the rest of the way home "since it's getting dark and I might need to save your butt in case something bad happens to you" (uh, it was only 6:30... not so dark). BUT with the support of a friendly presence behind me, chanting encouragement all the way up Agony Hill, and pushing me not to give up at the very end, I managed to gather enough energy not only to make it home but even to sprint the last block. Again, encouragement from a teenaged boy who may as well be my brother may not seem like a huge deal-- but Jack's words as he coasted into his driveway, "Hey, good job, that was awesome!" were GOLDEN.

My feelings from earlier in the day of, I stink at life, I'm such a failure, Why can't I do anything right, Why am I not good/pretty/funny/spiritual/strong/perfect enough vanished and were replaced with a triumphant high that I COULD do what I set out to accomplish, and that I was worthy of praise. Perhaps that sounds egotistical, but it's something I really needed to feel in my life lately.

So now for the name of the blog. It startled to sprinkle the slightest bit at the corner where I met up with Jack. Just as we turned the corner onto our street, the sky really opened up and big fat drops were spilling down. Despite my gross sweatiness, I dashed down the street to my house to avoid getting wet. I was afraid of the rain. How many times do I cut my run short, or just not run at all, because it "might" rain.

But then as I sat on my porch catching my breath, I realized the beauty of the rainstorm, and I was overcome with a desire to go play in the rain.... believe it or not, something I had never done in my life, save for one ultimate frisbee game in a downpour. But I had never played just for the sake of playing.

At that moment, my friend and neighbor Leeann called, just to tell me how much she was loving the beautiful rainstorm. I told her of my desire to play in it, expecting her to chuckle and call me silly. Instead, she immediately said she would see me shortly and hung up the phone. Two minutes later she was on my porch, and then we were off, twirling and dancing and leaping in the rain, singing much too loudly, and jumping in puddles. Soon we were knocking on doors, persuading 3 more friends to come let loose with us. So for 10 minutes, we did just that. We scooped water (of questionable cleanliness) out of puddles and threw it at each other, we splashed in the mud, and even just stood in the street marveling at the joy of childlike release.

This beautiful time was followed by delicious pizza with good friends, and long hours at the coffee shop with more wonderful friends. Throughout it all I basked in the glow of triumph, unbridled joy, and spontaneous lack of inhibition. God's amazing grace was tangible tonight, as I recalled the lowest of lows I had felt this morning, and then observed the group of women sitting around me who love me as the precious child I am. I am not a failure or a disappointment; rather, as my sweet friend Laurie spoke into my heart last weekend, I am a smart, beautiful woman of God.

So the point is, I now recognize how silly I was to run from the rainstorm, as I so often do. But really, running in a rainstorm is a beautiful thing. The cool drops are infinitely refreshing on my flushed face, and the water washes away the sweat of my toil. The sounds and smells of a rainstorm envelop me in my God's awesome creation, and once I give myself up to the storm, pure joy follows. This evening embodies how I want to live my life-- rather than being afraid of the storms and hiding from them, I want to run head-on into them, trusting my precious Lord to refresh me, to wash me clean, and to fill me with the joy of abandon.

So that's the name of the blog. And no, Uncle Tom, I never did become rich. In fact, I think I currently qualify for the status of "poor starving graduate student." But it's all good, because I live with 26 other poor starving graduate students and so we're all cheap together. Much love to New Jersey.