Saturday is usually my running day when I do not run. You follow? On Friday night, I go to bed fully intending to run, but by dawn something happens. I am not sure if it is the coffee, or my family, or the fact that usually we are not in a rush to go anywhere, but Saturday is the running day that I don't run.
But, you see, me and rain have this thing. It goes way back.
I have always felt like rain is a forehead kiss from my heavenly Papa. It has always come at the most opportune times. When I am especially high or low. When something especially good or bad is happening. I mean, one could argue that such is life; something especially good or bad is always happening. But it just feel special to me. I remember times it rained when we got placements, lost placements, birthdays, times when we have been struggling, times when we are thriving. It always feels like sweet relief; the muscles in my back loosen and I feel peace and joy. I know it is narcissistic, but it feels like it is especially for me.
I was sitting there in pajamas ready to slowly sip my coffee and listen to music with my family. Every drop was like a call from the Father. So this morning I couldn't help it, I had to go out in it. With Him. I grabbed my running shoes and my iPod and told Matt I was going running and he smiled knowingly. He knows about me and the rain...he is OK with it. I usually listen to rap or pop to run. This morning I had to listen to worship. My heart is so full and I am so glad. Thankful to the Creator. Thankful for what he has done for me in this life and in eternity. I just couldn't resist worshipping Him.
So if you saw me this morning - running soaking wet, arms outstretched, singing and crying, don't worry, I haven't lost it - I was just talking to my Papa.