And the rains came down

I got into a domestic mood this past week (which explains the new throw pillows on the couch that I made today instead of doing a research paper) and ended up buying this sign that I found at D.I. It said, "And the rains came down."

When I picked that sign up, it struck me kind of funny at first. I wasn't sure what to think about it. Was it supposed to be humorous? Was it supposed to be thought-provoking?  It was some stupid wooden slab, the same size as the ones people plaster above their doors with cliched quotes or their family name in huge Times New Roman letters (sometimes I really hate that font), and yet I kept carrying it around as I looked quickly for another backpack since mine had given up the ghost the week before.

I kept putting it down and picking it back up, and finally, I bought it and put it up in my apartment. I thought it was cute, until my roommate Veronica opened her bedroom door and read it out loud.  Her reaction (and I am quoting here, so don't shoot the messenger) was completely unexpected.

Veronica: "Damn. I best be gettin' inside."

I laughed until my stomach hurt (this is probably a sign that I need to do some crunches), and ended up taking it down the next day when my other roommate told her how depressed it made her feel when she looked at it. It is now wedged underneath my desk facing a wall so that no one can become despondent because of a phrase from a Primary song.

But it's been on my mind for awhile now.  Why did I feel so drawn to that stupid wall hanging? Why did I hang it up and not realize that it's a pretty glass-half-empty way to look at life?

I think part of the reason is that my family has been through quite a few monsoons in the past few years. And this is not to say that we're alone in this, because there are a lot of families that are struggling right now. But sometimes, it seems like when it starts to sprinkle in my life, it turns into a downpour in a matter of minutes — something that never seems fair, especially when I feel like I'm trying to do what's right.

But I realized something from that slab of wood propped up against the wall. The rains came down, the floods came up — and everyone started over again if things got washed away. Sometimes I think I focus too much on the drops that are falling on my head instead of the fun, deep wading puddles that I accidentally submerge my shoes in when walking around Rexburg. When I was a kid, it would have been fun to splash around in it. Now it's just another murky swamp that I have to step around.

So I've decided to put that sign away and make a new one with all my domestic energy (or what I did have before I sewed those darn throw pillows). In keeping with the theme, it will be a line from a Primary song, and it will have to do with nature as well.

I like to look for rainbows.

That chilly Idaho rain is going to pour down on me soon, but at least I know there'll be a beautiful arc in the sky to remind me that the puddle isn't nearly as deep as I think it is. 

That is, until I step in it wearing Sunday shoes.