The original of what you are about to read was sent to me as a chain letter. It had been copied and pasted, typos and all, over and over again, complete with different fonts and colors and e-mail addresses for hundreds of strangers I’ll never know (as that’s what happens when you don’t snip for brevity, and when you forget to use the BCC utility in your e-mail program).
I did not write the brief original, and I don’t know how long it’s been
floating around the `net, but I was inspired to refine parts of it.
I removed some details and added others to render it more “generic”
so it wouldn’t apply only to those with certain illnesses,
or those who followed certain religions.
I saw potential for much more, and so, here it is.
I hope you enjoy it, and that you can enjoy your own run through the rain.
A little girl had been out shopping with her Mom. She probably was about 6 years old, a red-haired, freckle-faced image of innocence. They had been safe and dry inside the store, but now that it was time to run their next errand, it began pouring outside. It was the kind of downpour that gushes out over rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth that it has no time to flow through the leaders to the downspouts. There hadn’t been any rain in weeks, and so the ground was hard, cracked and dry, and aching to be made wet. The heavy heat of the day was being beaten back by the torrents of water, and relief showed in the faces of those huddled together beneath the awning, just outside the door to the parking lot. Everyone waited, some patiently, some irritated, because Mother Nature had messed with their schedules.
The rainfall was mesmerizing. They all just stood there, lost in the sound and sight of water sluicing across the pavement and blacktop, washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running and splashing carefree came pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of the day.
An excited young voice was heard, breaking the trance of all who were present.
“Mom, let’s run through the rain,” it said.
“What?” Mom asked.
“Let’s run through the rain!” The little red-head girl repeated.
“No, honey. We’ll wait until it slows down a bit,” Mom replied.
This youngster waited a moment, and then said again, eagerly,
“Mom, let’s run through the rain!”
“We’ll get soaked if we do,” Mom sighed.
“No, we won’t, Mom. That’s not what you said this morning.”
The young girl tugged at her Mom’s arm. “Come on!”
“This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?”
“It was when you were talking to Daddy about what the doctors said!” The woman’s face paled as she looked down at her child. “Mom, you said, ‘If God/dess helps get us through this, then we can get through anything!’ Don’t you remember?”
All around them was silence, but for the sound of the rain.
Some felt embarrassed by such a private moment in the midst of strangers.
They tried to not listen, but that was impossible.
The Mom paused for a moment, and found herself at a crossroads, gifted with a response from deep within. Some might laugh it off or scold her for being silly, for having no discipline, but she knew she was blessed with inspiration, a moment of affirmation in a young child’s life, a time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom
into a faith worth having.
“Honey,” she said, “you are absolutely right. Let’s run through the rain.
If God/dess lets us get wet, well – maybe we just needed washing.”
As everyone stood watching, the pair held hands, laughing and smiling, as they darted past the parked cars and splashed through the growing puddles. They got soaked, and the little girl squealed with delight as her Mom swung her skyward before helping her into her car seat. In moments, they were followed by others
who took the inspiration as their own and screamed and giggled and laughed
like children as they, too, ran all the way to their cars.
They, too, had just needed washing… cleansing from the cares of the day, rinsing their worries down the drain in the welcome rainfall.
Like them, may all of you be able to run through the rain.
“To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.”
– King Solomon, Ecclesiastes 3.
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