Rain dancing

When I began my experience at the age of 16 my Prince took me on his wings and flew me over His mountains. I was in awe, captivated, and impressed. I was thrilled that this was what I was to call home.  But then two years later He landed in the valley and let me off, telling me that the journey home was to begin there. I don't think I was listening close enough to hear that. Journey? What journey? I was too excited by what I'd seen that when my feet hit the ground I gleefully started running towards the slopes. I quickly found myself on the ground in a heap and realized they were far away now. For the next few years I struggled and wandered. Attempting at times to get back to where I thought I'd been on the mountain. But flying over the mountains is much different than climbing them. I thought for a while maybe I had fallen off track somewhere. I'd missed a turn. Now slowly I'm beginning to understand. The heights are not reached in a day.

I always dreaded trials. I thought they were to be endured. I couldn't understand why Paul said he rejoiced in his sufferings. Jesus said to leap for joy. James said to count it all joy. I didn't. I thought I just had to figure something out and I would be back on the heights in no time. This journey, this stumbling along lost and lonely, the pain, the rain, the storms would end someday. But slowly, gradually something has been happening in me. I don't know how God did it. My view of trials blessings and rain has been changing. After a couple years I began making it across the valley. I started catching on to the purpose of trials. I was beginning to understand but I was only playing at the foothills. It's only been in the last 6 months especially that the picture has been coming together.

The pain, the loneliness, the rain...have been my biggest blessings. It has been trough those times that I have come to know my Prince. His strength, His beauty, His wisdom, His love, His depth, His sufficiency, His individuality..... And I've learned that rain is beautiful. Pain is so healing. And progress is often made crying and crawling on your hands and knees. Gripping the cold wet earth and fighting your way through the storm. It's nothing like the flight over the mountains. But it is so much deeper. I'm beginning to learn to embrace the flame and let it burn. Let it hurt. Don't run a way from it. And my Prince is confirming these lessons in so many ways.

Fall came to Weimar last week and brought the rain. I had been almost craving rain. It came at just the right time and just the wrong time. The cold was refreshing. But it triggered major homesickness. Christmas carols (no shame) started sneaking into my room and I was dreaming of an evening snuggled between my mom and dad reading a good book in front of the wood stove. When the rain came Wednesday night I was really having a hard time. My best friend came into the dorm all wet from the rain. She would understand exactly what I'm trying to explain here. Her companionship in the last several years of this journey has been one of the biggest gifts God has given me. With one knowing smile at each other we took off for a much needed "rain dance". There's really no dancing involved, just walking with no umbrella. Rain dancing in Nebraska is a rare treat since the rain is usually accompanied by lightening. So I hadn't gotten to do it in a long time. We walked a half a mile and just soaked it in, stopping in the dark to just listen.

When you learn to dance in the rain you can begin to rejoice when it comes. You don't run for cover. Your not afraid of it. You embrace it. You begin to crave it. Because there is a feeling like nothing else can bring.

I know there will be many more opportunities to embrace the "rain" in the weeks to come. My strength has long since been spent. But now I see this is where my Prince wanted me to be all along. Flying on His wings doesn't mean near as much when your own are itching to take the skies and you think you can do it. But when your strength is gone. When you've been trudging up the slope with your last ounce. When you realize you can't take another step. Then you feel the strength in His arms around you.

Perhaps fear is losing his grip on me. Love is casting him out.