My Day in the Rain

I’m in Seattle on vacation. You remember, the place I used to call home. It’s a gray, thoughtful, Seattle day. Overcast, with an occasional raindrop and a foggy mist that takes shape and then evaporates, all at once. Cool and clean, I’d say, clothed with the scent of fresh evergreen under the gently brooding sky. It’s not weather that appeals to everybody, I know; most people roll their eyes when I describe it fondly. But, for today, it’s just right for this guy raised up on the shore of Puget Sound.

It’s just right because I received some hard news today. A real disappointment. Something long hoped for—and worked for—has, suddenly, been taken away. That’s how it feels. And it’s tough. It’s not incidental, it’s not a “well, no big deal” kind of a thing. It’s a big loss. A sad moment. A real blow.

It’s an “ouch” and a “ I’m frustrated,” and a “kickin-the-gut” kind of feeling. I’m not sure what even to think, as the reality sinks in. The “why’s,” “what if’s,” and “what now’s,” are all swirling in my head. I’m on vacation, but it doesn’t feel very relaxed right at the minute. The tough edge of life has intervened.

Of course, in my line of work, I walk other people through disappointments all of the time. I know all of the cosmic explanations, the Bible verses-that-bring-perspective, the Romans 8:28 embroidery, and all the rest. I know how to pray. I know how to sort things out. I know what to do.

Except, today, on this gray, thoughtful Seattle day, I don’t feel encouraged by any of the stuff I dish out routinely to others. It’s not always so easy to practice what I preach.

Part of me wants to be mad. Another part wants to just fold up my tent and walk away. Or pout. Or feel sorry for myself. Or be passive/aggressive (projecting my aggression passively, by playing the martyr and just being quiet—with a sigh or a stare or a shrug). What difference does it make, anyway? Things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped. I’ve got new problems to face now. New and deeper canyons to cross. Ugh. Just forget it. St. James has had enough. And, yes, at times like these, I don’t want to hear anybody else whine about anything else. We’ve all got problems, okay?

Yuck. My attitude stinks. It doesn’t help me or change anything for the better. It pulls me further down—and makes me poor company, too.

I feel worse for my introverted tirade. And, even though there’s a kind of perverse energy in feasting on my negative junk, I know it’s a dead end.

I stare out the window at Green Lake. It’s a beautiful, peaceful view from the brick tudor house on the corner that I call “home” for a few weeks each year. Facing west across the lake, I can see a group of crew shells slicing through the water. There are joggers and power-walkers on the perimeter path, below my perch—just beyond the sloping green grass and next to the weeping willows. The clouds move silently, undulating and morphing into different shapes and forms, breaking up here and there to reveal a hint of blue sky. A shaft of light breaks through and then disappears.

God is fighting for me. Not against me. I do believe that. Maybe today’s disappointment is just a stop on a longer journey, in which God will lead me and my family to a better outcome than even I had dared for once to dream. I have a choice to make: wallow in my disappointment or watch for God to intervene for the good. Hmmm. I’m going to believe God will show up tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next. With evidence that He is, in fact, working things together for the good. Because I am called according to His purpose. And, I love Him.

Maybe Romans 8:28 works after all. Or check this out (Hebrews 11:6): So, you see, it is impossible to please God without faith. Anyone who wants to come to Him must believe that there is a God and that He rewards those who sincerely seek Him. I have to make a choice. I choose to believe. Even in the face of my deep disappointment.

Maybe I shouldn’t write a column like this. Kind of a downer. After all, I should be trafficking in the inspirational, right? But, everybody has good days and bad days. The rain falls on the just and the unjust. And droughts fall on both, too. That’s life. My life isn’t without its challenges, just like yours. But, in the end, we all have the same choice to make. I’ve decided, once more, to “wait upon the Lord.” The devil has taken enough away from me today. I’m not giving him another inch. If it’s rained on your parade this week, too, I pray that you’ll make the same choice, as well.

And, hey, I’m in the Emerald City, after all, with my wife and family. Things can’t be all that bad. Colossians 3:2.