Cleansing Rain

 I drove through town this morning without the all too familiar droning of the radio. Normally, we turn it up loud and sing and seat-dance our way across town. But not today. Today it was just 2 chattering and excited-for-another-day-of-camp little boys, their listening mama and the soothing sound of the rhythmic rainfall. It didn’t take long for it to completely wash over me and draw me, if only for that moment, closer to the Lord. It was His permission to be present. And, oh, the things I felt. 

 

Today. Today is the morning after another “last”. I haven’t let many of the “lasts” sit for too long; I’ve bypassed the sadness that comes with growing up a child and marched forward into the next thing. But the quietness of the car and the permission of the rain gave way to the floodgates of my always guarded emotions. Perhaps it’s because there is but one child home with me today which is odd to say the least. Perhaps it was the finality of the “last high school moment” fully sinking in as I drove. Perhaps it just is what it is. You see, my foolish pride boasts of my steely emotions. I’m very proficient at putting my blinders on and doing the next thing. It’s gotten me through some very tough moments. However, what if I allowed myself to sit and feel. Feel all the things. I admit it’s not a comfortable place to be but quite possibly it’s the better place to be. Weren’t we endowed with all these emotions? Not simply strength? Joy and sadness are not mutually exclusive. We can be both joyful and filled with hopefulness for what is yet to come and equally sad and nostalgic for what has ended and is behind us. 

 

And the last “last” sat heavy with me this morning. I’m not good at crying. I’ve never really learned how to do it; or more truthfully, I’ve become so proficient at the not crying part of life that I’ve refused to allow myself to feel that emotion that can be so healing. It’s not a sign of weakness. Not at all. Allowing oneself to feel, to feel ALL the emotions, is a strength, awareness of your own humanity and a better understanding of what it means to depend fully upon our God. It is beauty. The steadiness of the falling rain this morning felt very much as a metaphorical cry for me this morning. It may sound foolish. And that’s ok. Because after I dropped off my boys, it was just me, the quiet whispers of God and the steadiness of falling tears washing away the hurt, the stains of humanity, the sins I fall into, and my stubborn dependence upon myself. It was a cleansing. It was a permission to be sad. 

 

Often, we hear and probably repeat the saying “don’t be sad that it’s over; be happy that it happened”. And I’m stymied by the idea that we refuse to be both. I want to experience and feel all the emotions. Give permission to ourselves and others to be 100% present in this life, and yes that means we may have to feel sadness and be ok with others’ sadness. I don’t want to “get through it” my entire life. I want to feel the full spectrum of emotions sewn into my very being as I was knit in my mother’s womb because that is His true design! I want to love fiercely, feel fiercely, express my emotions fiercely. Living in the moment doesn’t mean marching on to the next moment with blinders on and never feeling the weight of life. 

 

My boys are all growing up-as they are meant to do. And that leaves me in this emotional juxtaposition of joyful hope and deep sadness. They need me less and less and in much different ways. They have this exciting autonomy and independence that is both beautiful to watch and assist and yet still heartbreakingly painful. My job as their mom, my ever-present role, ebbs and flows. It changes. Yes, I will always be their mama. That will truly never change. However, as a mom to all boys I’m very aware of my role. Boys leave their mamas. They tend not to return. As it is designed by their Creator. I’m raising them to be used by Him, after all. I know my role is fleeting. I feel it more and more and I am saddened that it will, no doubt, be over some day. One day…I will not be someone’s joy, or the one they look for in the crowd, or the first hug after something great or something horrible. Right now, I am the keeper of their world…of all their emotions, moments, tears. My role as mom has been exhausting at times, but I wouldn’t change any part of that. But it won’t last. One by one they will leave the safety my arms and my home and spread their wings. And I will cheer the loudest. Always. But they will find their place, their path and it won’t be next to mine. And that makes me sad. 

 

And today, God sent the rain to give me permission to cry. So I did.