Do you remember this post? That's the one about the time God gave me a hug via rainfall...
Well, if you liked it then YOU'RE IN LUCK! Because for my Writer's Craft class, we were told to write about an intimate experience with Mother Nature, and that is the experience I wrote about. It's a smidgeon longer, but I think it's rather better. I was pleased with how it turned out...
So yeah. Here's a link: BAM! (If you go to the link, then you can scope my other stuff, too...nudgenudgewinkwink). And here it is, text-style:
My mom and I seem to be incapable of arguing with one another. This is not to say that we never argue, but rather that one or both of us will end up crying about it soon after. So when I say that after a particularly loud argument I stormed into my room, slammed the door, collapsed on my bed and began to sob, you will know that it was not an unusual end of a fight for me.
On this particular day, though, the argument seemed to be only the thing that tipped me over the edge. There were other things that were behind the tears—stress, homework, frustration, and hormonal unbalance from it being that time of the month again—and all of these causes together are what made a few minutes of angry tears turn into a half hour of gut-wrenching sobbing.
It felt like I had been holding tears inside of me and now that they had an exit, they were tearing out as quickly and as aggressively as they could. It frightened me, this savage way in which I was crying, and that made me sob even harder.
I curled up into a little ball on my bed, forehead pressed the cool, green surface of my wall, and choked down my heaves. You see, pride is an ugly thing. I had just argued with my mom, so even though I was no longer mad at her I didn't want her to comfort me, and she have would if she heard me cry.
But yet...I did. I did want my mom to come running to my side, to have her pull me into her arms, smooth my hair and tell me that it was alright, that she still loves me. What is it about a mother's embrace that is so inordinately warm and comforting? I craved that assurance, my friends, but my pride did not. My pride wanted nothing to do with her, and so I was alone in my misery.
I felt terrified of the silence that surrounded me outside of my cries, and even more terrified of the murmur of sounds outside my door. I'm not sure what was making me so scared, but my fear felt very real, regardless of how unreasonable it was.
Even the weather outside had lent itself to my mood, for as the day wore on the sky had clouded, then gone from fluffy and white to black, dark, and so typically brooding. Likewise, I had gone from cheerful to irritable and, as I said before, so typically brooding. I have no doubts that my mood had played a large part in the start of my argument, but that knowledge would not have been useful to me then.
I needed someone there with me so I silently called out to my Lord, but I was met by a stony silence. With that, I knew that I had been abandoned by everything I needed, everyone I needed. Another sob flew from my mouth and my stomach tightened. Was I really capable of creating such a guttural sound? I shivered. Now I was terrified of myself, too.
My fists clenched in tight little balls, I tried to curb my crying. I had indulged in this weakness for too long, and it needed to stop. Now. But try as I might, I couldn't make it stop. I didn't even know what I was crying about anymore, certainly not that argument. My grief was rooted deep, so I gave in and stopped fighting against it.
Through the hiccupping sound that echoed in my ears, I heard something. It was faint and barely perceptible, and I had just chosen to ignore it when I heard it again, louder this time. I listened closer then swallowed hard, because it was a beastly sound, like an animal clawing to get in.
I racked my mind for what it could be. I live on the second floor, so whatever was clawing—beating, now—wasn't an idly curious passerby. This thing wanted in, badly, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I strained my ears to the sounds and curled even closer to my wall, instinctually protecting my underbelly and exposing my bony back. While I lay there waiting for hell-knew-what to finally break through my window, I realized exactly what was scratching so feverishly:
Rain.
Those angry clouds had finally released their torrents, slowly at first, then throwing it down with enough force to make my window rattle in its frame. They were so thick and dark that I couldn't tell if the sun had set or not.
Rain is an interesting thing for me. I find it mesmerizing, with its steady rhythm and occasional peals of thunder. During a summer downpour, I can often be found outside with my arms stretched out on either side of me and my face tilted up at the sky, welcoming the water. My dad sometimes asks me why I do this, and I patiently explain to him that the rain is so pure, so precious, that it feels like God is reaching down and hugging me. Dad doesn't usually understand what I mean once I say this, as he is a practical sort of person with little use for dreamy words. So he leaves me alone in the rain and I stand there, soaked to the bone and completely content. I don't need to be standing in it for this feeling to come; the mere presence fills me with this peace that flows to every extremity. And it always has this effect. Always.
Slowly, I came back to myself, and realized that I had stopped crying, first stopped by my fear, then kept away by my awe and fascination. The sharp, hurting sensation had fled my chest and I no longer felt like was going to suddenly start sobbing uncontrollably all over again.
I began smiling as I realized, then, that I hadn't been ignored. I hadn't been abandoned. I had needed a hug desperately, and that prayer was answered in a completely different way from what I was expecting. But in its sudden, unanticipated arrival, that rainy hug soothed me more than any sought-after comfort could have done.
:)
~Godspede
P.S. My DeviantArt page's link is ever-present...just click on the tab at the top of this page that says "Links you might like" and it's under there.
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