Rain
Rain can be a sudden inconvenience – a ruined hairdo or wet clothes. It can also be one of life’s gifts, washing away the dirt that distorts our perceptions.
A few days ago, my family attended the wedding and reception of my husband’s high school friend. A sudden loud noise through the speakers both at the wedding and reception frightened our 2.5 year old daughter. She released her fear in monsoon wails, “Home, home! Go HOME!”
A similar thing occurred at my cousin’s wedding a few weeks ago. At that time, her tears had overwhelmed me, drowned me in dissatisfaction. I was not going to be able to dance or enjoy my cousin’s wedding.
A similar weight of displeasure began to burden my mind and body as I watched by daughter cry in my husband’s arms at the second wedding. I would not be able to take part in the karaoke fun.
But something happened.
I realized I was inside myself, and I was dry. I was not drowning in my daughter’s tears. I was swimming in them. I was holding a little girl (my own inner child) who had been raised to stifle emotions, to leave them as quickly as possible in search of fairer weather, of happiness. The rain had cracked my own heart open, and I was grateful for my daughter’s fear bathing us both in this healing moment.
My husband and I decided to leave the reception for our daughter. I know now more than ever that this child will learn to embrace everything, both joy and pain in equal measure.
Sometimes we will be dry. Sometimes we will not be able to find shelter from the deluge of our overwhelming emotions. Sometimes our children will bring rain, and we will heal together.
A few days ago, my family attended the wedding and reception of my husband’s high school friend. A sudden loud noise through the speakers both at the wedding and reception frightened our 2.5 year old daughter. She released her fear in monsoon wails, “Home, home! Go HOME!”
A similar thing occurred at my cousin’s wedding a few weeks ago. At that time, her tears had overwhelmed me, drowned me in dissatisfaction. I was not going to be able to dance or enjoy my cousin’s wedding.
A similar weight of displeasure began to burden my mind and body as I watched by daughter cry in my husband’s arms at the second wedding. I would not be able to take part in the karaoke fun.
But something happened.
I realized I was inside myself, and I was dry. I was not drowning in my daughter’s tears. I was swimming in them. I was holding a little girl (my own inner child) who had been raised to stifle emotions, to leave them as quickly as possible in search of fairer weather, of happiness. The rain had cracked my own heart open, and I was grateful for my daughter’s fear bathing us both in this healing moment.
My husband and I decided to leave the reception for our daughter. I know now more than ever that this child will learn to embrace everything, both joy and pain in equal measure.
Sometimes we will be dry. Sometimes we will not be able to find shelter from the deluge of our overwhelming emotions. Sometimes our children will bring rain, and we will heal together.
posted by mermaid at 10:06 PM
7 Comments:
this is such an excellent epiphany. i love when life so richly offers up these experiences.
namaste!
you both are beautiful.
j
yeah final lines. That is what family means. A bond of love.
Vesper, i do , too:)
Orgasmik, thank you.
Sandy, yes, a bond of love.
What a beautiful portrait.
that is so beautiful! happy mother's day!!
Mb, thanks. i know you mean the inside more then what shows here:)
Lorena, thank you. We were in Yosemite. It was fun!
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