The weather is quite an appropriate metaphor for life.
Sometimes life is like sunshine – it warms your soul, happiness radiates from you and your smile is bright. You feel like you could conquer the world. All is as it should be. The sky is clear and so is your mind.
Sometimes life is like rain – the cold seeps into your soul, you are drenched in sadness and your world is dark. You feel like the world has conquered you. Nothing is as it should be. The sky is full of storm clouds and so is your life. When it rains it pours.
My challenge throughout life has been in relinquishing control of the circumstances that befall me. My anxiety peaks when I know a storm is coming, or think I see a storm coming. I am already preparing for the downpour of rain, even when the sky is clear blue.
What if something bad happens? What if I can’t cope? What if the storm is so bad that I drown?
Subconsciously, I guess by trying to control a situation, I think I can hold off the rain. If I prepare for it and make a plan, maybe the storm will blow over. Maybe I can avoid getting soaked through.
We can’t control the uncontrollable.
But that’s the thing. I can’t avoid the rain, not forever. Nobody can. Sure I could hide away inside, watching and waiting from my window. But what kind of a life is that?
Like the weather, life is good, then it’s bad. It’s an ever changing cycle of seasons. There will be seasons of joy and laughter, where the heart will sing.
Then there will be seasons of sadness and grief, where the heart will ache or break.
Resisting is futile. It’s a waste of energy and time. Fighting against a force you have no chance of winning is frustrating. Instead of always seeking out the sunshine, it would be better to become accustomed to getting out in the rain and pushing through.
Going out in the rain would mean I will be susceptible to whatever falls from the sky. The rain would soak my clothes, and they will become heavy and uncomfortable. It will be cold, the wind howling around me while the rain beats down.
But what if I learned to dance in the rain?
It would still feel uncomfortable. I still won’t be in control. But if I let go of fighting and embraced the storm, if I danced while the rain beat down around me, would it make getting through the ordeal easier?
I think so. I would have conserved the energy I normally would have wasted. My spirit might not be as damaged. And maybe, as I danced to the beat of the thunder, the dark clouds may disperse. While I side step puddles and pirouette through the pain, the sun might reappear and a rainbow will be painted across the sky.
My dear Dad was someone who was able to dance in the rain (definitely the metaphor of rain – bless him, he used to hate getting wet). His fighting spirit was so strong that even when faced with the ultimate storm – imminent death – he still chose to smile and laugh. He still went out when the forecast predicted dark and dreary days ahead. His strength was incredible and inspiring. It was unbelievable how easily he accepted his cruel fate.
I used to ask him if he was scared, if he was angry this was happening to him. He would say, ‘This is life – when your number is up, it’s up. What can you do? I’m just a number now. It’s in God’s hands.’
He would always say that there was someone out there worse off than him.
He was humble and kind and brave. And when I finished writing this piece, all I could think of was him. He never waited for the sunshine, he made the best of what he had even when the storm was raging outside. The incredible thing about my Dad was that even when the storm was at its worst, he still had this amazing ability to see the sunshine through the dark clouds. We couldn’t see it but he knew it was there. When he would give us his bright smiles and warm hugs and laugh like he didn’t have a care in the world, we knew he could see the rainbow, waiting there for him.
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