Joy During the Rainstorms
When it’s raining, we have a choice: either complain about getting wet or be excited that trees are getting a drink that’ll help them grow tall and strong. We can have the same experiences but yet have completely different responses. Let’s choose the response that brings hope and happiness.
I recall a morning when I was unusually early for my first class in 6th Grade. I was fortunate enough to have one of the most impactful teachers of my life at the start of each school day. And since I was so early the classroom was empty other than Mrs. Wilde sitting at her desk in the back corner. She was leaning back slightly and gazing at two rows of young evergreen trees that had been planted a year or two before.
At first I didn’t want to disturb her in part because I was in the middle of the awkward transition where teachers were still rather intimidating and I was so eager to please Mrs. Wilde especially, but also because of the look in her eyes while taking in the serene scene just outside her bank of windows. When she turned and saw me she gave me a polite smile and nod. I smiled back and dropped my bag at my seat around my octagonal table like the half a dozen arounds around the room.
“What are you look at,” I asked, instantly certain that that was the absolute stupidest question though I didn’t know quite what else I should have asked.
She looked back at the trees. Beads of water glistened where they rested tucked on branches and trunks.
“Just watching the trees getting a drink,” she replied.
I sensed that that was somehow a very profound statement, although as I try to jump back into my 12 year old self and recreate the thoughts and feelings that spurred from Mrs. Wild’s statement, I’m afraid the main thing that excited me back then was that I could use that phrase in a poem—I had been introduced to the world of writing poetry by Mrs. Wild a few weeks before—which I’m certain turned out to be full of clichés and sentimentality and with that one phrase holding some of the other thoughts together like trying to keep a cupboard door attached using duct tape.
Thank goodness I had that experience tucked away in my memory banks for me to unpack many times over the years. One thought that has come to mind so often as a result of that precious experience I had with Mrs. Wilde was that nearly every physical experience we face can be viewed as a good or bad thing depending on our perspective. Forest fires can be terrifying and destructive and deadly. And they also renew soils and clear areas for new growth. Volcano eruptions and destroy homes and ruin vacations to tropical paradise, but without eruptions the islands themselves wouldn’t have ever existed. Snow to one person might mean a car crash while to fish the same snow might mean a stream is revitalized in which to spawn new birth. And yes, rain can be devastating for a bride with her heart set on an outdoor wedding. But then again, it also provides a drink for young pine trees.
When I go past my old middle school today, and see the towering trees that were once about my 6th grade self’s height, I’m reminded about all of the drinks of water those evergreens must have required over the 25 years to grow into the stately trees that provide so much beauty and shade to the school today. It’s so hard to look at our hardship in any other frame isn’t it? But the same rain that cancels some things might be fervently prayed for by farmers hoping for their crops to grow.
Thinking back on that experience from the 6th grade is definitely bittersweet for me now because Mrs. Wilde has sadly pass away over a year ago. Even now, I would love nothing better than to see her smiling profile picture on Facebook with her encouraging response she would have undoubtedly given me if she could be here with us still to read this post, knowing how generous she was in giving her enthusiasm for others’ hopes. But I am so grateful for her wise thoughts on that day and many other days while I was fortunate enough to have her as my teacher and later as a friend. The evergreen trees outside Mrs. Wild’s classroom window will likely outlive me too, so I hope that future generations can catch a glimpse of the trees getting a drink. That seems like such a healthier response to rain than complaining about getting wet.