I woke up Saturday morning to the percussive sound of rain beating down on the metal roof. It wasn’t a wimpy, Pacific Northwest mist, either. It was a real rain. The kind we used to call toad stranglers back in Louisiana. So I lay there in bed, half asleep and half awake, thinking of the plans I'd made and the perfect excuse Mother Nature had provided for not following them. Eventually I did manage to crawl out from under the covers, but there was no reason to rush.
Throwing on my bath robe, I turned on some gentle music and began to inventory my refrigerator. With extra time on my hands, now, I didn't have to settle for a bowl of cereal and yogurt. Instead, I created a delicious omelet with onions, mushrooms, zucchini, ham and cheese. After a mindful breakfast and dutiful, kitchen clean-up, I took time to soak and meditate in the tub before getting dressed. By then the rain had become a Northwest mist, and there was still plenty of time to get to the first event on my previous game plan. So I grabbed my raincoat and headed out the door.
As the day progressed, my planned schedule seemed to unfold without incidence. Occasionally I had to pull the hood of my raincoat over my head, but that didn't prevent me from buying produce at the farmers market or eating lunch with friends or even attending the author event at one of our local bookstores. Along the way, I managed to converse with several old friends and even discuss current affairs and island history with people I'd never known and probably will never meet again. By the end of the day, I was amazed at all that I had accomplished.
Now, back at home nursing a cup of tea while a hearty soup simmers on the stove, I am reminded of some words that my father often spoke. "Rain," he said, "only keeps people from doing what they really didn't want to do in the first place." And today, his words were spot on!