This event occurred in Spring 2001 and first published publicly on a previous blog.
Outside a trendy natural food market, I munch on a natural, organic lunch that satisfies the palette and somewhat reaffirms the idea of eating well. The reflections hearken back to an hour or so before this healthy helping. Absent-mindedly, I start my car only to remember that I forgot my reading materials for today’s solitary satiating. The sky is blue. Next, I find myself in my car again–minutes later–with the reading material and raindrops speckling my Old Navy-special shirt. The sky is still blue, but it’s raining. How odd.
Fast forward to this moment now. Seated at a patio table with a panoramic view of parking lots filled with every car imaginable…from a rusty blue VW bus to a snazzy, black SUV. I dig into my massive slice of “healthy” pizza and a cup of soup du jour (roasted red pepper and corn chowder). The sky grays then soaks this panorama with rain. Shoppers scurry across the pavement wondering why they could possibly need an umbrella on a sunny, blue-sky day. Truthfully, it’s rather amusing. It’s only water, I chuckle. That’s easy for me to say, tucked nicely under a covered patio. You’ve gotta try this soup!
Something about the rain stirred my soul to move the pen. What is that something? Is it the years of repressed reflections running over? Is it my natural smugness to the nouveau-riche as they run in the rain? Only God knows. At times I wish I knew my heart so well, but then again, maybe I’d be frightened out of my mind. Hey, lady, the rain stopped; put down your umbrella. Pretty funny.
In only a few minutes, the rain clouds cooled the air and washed it clean. We all know that aroma after a steady Spring rain; there’s nothing quite like it.
I rarely see such diversity of people in this upper-middle-class vanilla part of town. In a sweeping glance here, you can see white collar and blue collar, soccer moms and earth mommas, teens and the aged, bathed and un-bathed, western and eastern, straight and non-straight, bearded and clean-shaven, just and unjust. And the rain is falling (again) on all of them, er, us. I’m in there somewhere.
In church lingo, we say that God “pours” His blessings on us….that He “showers” us with His love. Much like this rain that waters the earth that grows the grain that feeds the just and the unjust. Sadly, though, there’s life-giving water soaking the lifeless streets and parking lots where man and auto trample it without regard. There’s so much water to make it “OK,” I guess. Even more sad.
Yet that’s how we treat God’s blessings and love. We are so inundated with God’s blessing and love that we’ve become familiar. This familiarity has bred contempt. Made to wonder, we’re prone to wander. Yes, we. All of us. You. Me. Them. The Just. And the Unjust. Only a God as big as Jehovah God would generate such grace and love and blessing as this–even when He knows we’ll likely disregard it. Only Jehovah God would shower the world with boundless love even though He knows we’ll walk through life under an umbrella of self.
I’ll remember this the next time I see an umbrella blown outward by a strong, swirling wind. Maybe that’s God’s way of breaking through our self, as if to say “I’m gonna love you and bless you whether you want me to or not!”
My soup is gone, and the pizza is now cold. What a lunch. Hey, lady, it’s raining again; put down your umbrella.
