100 things cross and re-cross my mind as I work inside my favorite coffee shop in my new town...soon to be my old town if these plans worked out.
Caught up in my human concerns, it isn't until the darkness begins to seep into the windows that I look outside to see the storm approaching. Black clouds creeping slowly over the sun, showing between the buildings, a feeling of danger suddenly overtaking the once cloudless sky.
Shoppers hurry a little faster through the historic downtown streets, looking up nervously in case the clouds empty themselves prematurely.
My heart beats faster and my Joy grows. That little thrill of danger, the quick flash of lightning excites me. I've decided that I could be a storm chaser if this teaching thing doesn't work out.
Suddenly, the deluge begins.
From dry to streams in the street in 3.5 seconds, and shoppers run for their vehicles helter-skelter.
People begin leaving the coffee shop, young ones darting out as quickly as they can, older ones standing under the eaves longer, waiting for a slackening, a slowing of the downpour before they try to run--a little slower--to their vehicles.
Others enter, parking as close to the door as possible, attempting to use umbrellas as they get out of the car, only to have them soaked and pushed sideways by the wind. Families come in, laughing as they wipe the wet from their faces and find a place to get comfortable.
A grandmother pauses with her three young grandchildren. The kids discuss how fast they'll run, excited at the possibility of getting wet and dodging raindrops. The grandmother contemplates pulling the car up, but with a resigned sigh says:
"Well, I guess we'll just get wet." As they leave, three have beaming faces, while one is less enthusiastic.
I pause my observations. Is this how it is supposed to be? When did that grandmother forget the Joy of running in the rain? When did the older ones stop taking risks, just doing, and darting out into the storm without a second thought?
At what point do people stop choosing Joy in ordinary circumstances?
Was there a point when that grandmother began to view storms as unpleasant, a nuisance to the natural progress of life?
What about the older ones, as they hesitate to take a risk, waiting for an opportune moment as the rain streams down the eaves? Is this something learned, or did it happen gradually, as they got older?
Risk taking, choosing Joy in the small things, I think they're all connected.
I didn't used to be someone who took risks.
Calculated, well-thought out, work-the-way-I-planned risks? Yes. If you can call those risks at all.
Choosing something new where I didn't know the outcome, and jumping off that ledge with Joy? Never.
My 15-year-old self would be scandalized at who I am today.
But because of the risks I've taken, my eyes have been opened to the Joy that a rainstorm can bring. The dark clouds are more exciting than scary, and the cliffs I jump off of don't seem quite so tall.
There are many days where I hesitate to jump, and my 15-year-old self begins to scream at me to stop.
Then I shake her words from my head, and I remember that I don't want to go back to who I was.
I don't ever want to be afraid to dart into the rainstorm, or jump off of that cliff, no matter how high, as long as the Lord is whispering to me to follow Him in that direction, my Joy and fulfillment will surpass my fear.
The rain stops as quickly as it had began, and the Joyful sun peeks through the clouds.
Hanna Elizabeth
