When the rain comes...

Just a fun guest post I wrote up for a friend a while back. It seemed to fit this rainy day too...

If I close my eyes and listen… really listen, what do I hear?

Today, Chopin and Brian Crain’s rendition of “Hallelujah” and Fur Elise, Clair De Lune and… water.
I hear water… in my ears and in my soul. It’s a rainy day. It won’t rain for long, just long enough to wet the soil and refresh a restless soul. Days like this beckon the busy to rest, relax, breathe in reprieve… and blow out the electric buzzing of a million things that must be, should be, ought to be done.
But no, not today. Today I shall be still, quiet and calm, which is something quite foreign to my hurried nature, but necessary and nurturing every time I do it.
As the water rolls from the roof-top…
down,
down,
down… to plummet into a puddle of brother droplets in rapturous ripples, I scroll and click.
The water rolls and drips and I scroll and click… through hundreds of pictures, memories, moments stolen from forever and captured on a phone that is running out of space to hold much more.
I suppose I am a compulsive picture taker. Somehow freezing a moment in time helps me feel more connected to humanity. Someday, sometime, decades, maybe centuries from now, years after I am long dead, perhaps… perchance, these digital snapshots will give the future of mankind a glimpse into the simple individual life of she who was from the past. Like fragmented potsherds in an ancient dig site, I fancy these humble moments could be dusted off, refined with futuristic enhancements still unknown, and archeologists and their protégés will speculate on the life of a layman of this era based off these photos that were left to find.
What can I say? I am a creative, idealistic soul, nothing, not even a picture taken of me, my family, my friends or my world, is just for a singular, selfish purpose. And yet, in a singularly selfish, self-centered way, each photo is nothing more than narcissism... proof that I exist. Evidence that I am someone. I matter, even, if only to myself. I am here. I am alive. I live!
And what a life it is that I live! Drip… click… ripple… scroll…
Drip…
Click… a selfie, and my tongue is out… hmmm, I ought to delete that, and be more mindful in the future of both selfies and my tongue’s penchant to make an appearance in my pictures.
Ripple…
Scroll…
Drip…
Click… a night out with my ladies and gents. These people who once were strangers, now friends, their smiling faces and recollections of our good-natured antics bless me, and I smile back at their digital reflections.
Ripple…
Scroll…
Drip…
Click… A hike with my youngest son and fellow gym mates, to work out and watch the sunrise over Saddle Rock. Sweet, savory, sweaty fellowship with God and man.
Ripple…
Scroll…
Delete… because neither myself, my Facebook feed or the future of humanity needs to see the meal I was so proud of making from scratch a month ago… or do they?

Nah…
Drip…
Click… a photo of my grand-daughter, a precious mix of her mother and dad; a gift of a child I somehow helped create even though I adopted her mama. Were it not for my infiltration into her mother’s life, this precious babe wouldn’t be here today. Like Tim McGraw’s country song, I let myself feel the pride of being a grandma and am humbled that I have them in my life. I say a prayer for my girls... all of them.
Ripple… how strange our lives are, rippling out, away from ourselves, puddling, muddling into the essence of others.
Scroll… A series of photos from a mini-vacation with my eldest son where we rushed to find as many waterfalls as we could and capture them into digital treasure boxes we could open and share later.
Drip… they’re slower now, the clouds are moving away, almost time ‘to do’ again and not just ‘be.’
Click… my friends, my family, my world, these souls and places I have opportunity to experience and embrace.
Ripple… I am grateful.
Scroll… What a good, full, blessed life the Lord has given me.
If I close my eyes and listen… really listen, I hear the heartbeats of countless souls like drips and drops that dance their way into my simple, layman’s life … this precious, priceless puddle of humanity I claim for myself and for posterity!