An Odd Duck
by danielml on November 29, 2009
The more I hang out with people who ... well, with people who aren't me (which is everyone, lulz) - the more I see myself becoming a bit of an odd duck. Today this disparity was polarized as I had the following conversation after church.
"You know, you don't have to ride your bike in the rain," she said.
"I know I don't HAVE to," I said with a huge smile.
A look of shock mixed with terror sharply contrasted her kind expression from earlier. "You mean you WANT to ride your bike in this?! You know it's not so bad getting help from people!"
"I know. I get help from a lot of people. That's why it's so important to me to do things for myself when I can. Thank you for your offer, though."
"Well, don't get yourself sick out there."
Big grin from me, "Don't worry, I won't get sick, just a little wet." I went on to explain the nature of my gear and how I wouldn't be getting too soaked anyway.
A couple minutes later another friend accosted me saying, "Daniel! Tell me you're not riding in this rain!"
"I'm riding in this rain!"
"But it's RAINING!!!"
"It's a beautiful rain! I love the rain!"
The rain was cool and invigorating. I didn't have my rain pants or shoe covers with me so my pants and shoes got a touch soaked. When I ride through a brisk and pouring rain my thoughts flow like rivers. The rain ... a symbol of God's providence in making things grow. A symbol of God's protection from the "raging storms of life." Water is used for baptism. It clears the air. It nourishes us and quenches our thirst. I like to hold my head up and look at the sky during a strong rain. It is like bathing in the world's waterfall. It is like being baptized by the sky. Some days, the rain mixes with tears - and I allow myself to cry. It forms small streams at my head and turns to mighty rivers at my feet. It washes away my aches and pains. The puddles make me giggle. The sound of squishy socks in shoes makes me smile. There are a million little wonders you can't experience every day in a ride through the rain. Best of all is returning home or to some other familiar warm place. Stripping away my assorted and annointed things and replacing them with warm dry clothes. Hanging the wet ones to drip in the shower, brewing a pot of fresh coffee and letting my body warm with the comforts and graces of God's provision ... a roof, a shelter, something warm in my stomach and clothes.
These things are treasures to me.