It rained all day. Hard. And it didn't stop. Not once. But we knew the facts in advance, which was partly why we went when we did. We wore our flannels, packed plenty of water bottles, and had some soggy cliff bars in the end. It was a wet wet success. We sat at the biggest table under the shelter and scattered it with Bibles and notebooks and spent the morning playing footsie. Psalm 139 was where it was at that morning, and it opened us up a bit. Which was good.
We licked the rain and sang about it. Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens... It wasn't obnoxious until the dog bit, the bee stung, and we were feeling sad. We were the only ones in the park that day. It worked in everyone's favor, let's just say that. The majority says we're doing this again sometime. Even if I'm the majority.
We talked about God's presence, and how hard it is to recognize Him in our lives sometimes. We talked about our stupid teenage girly feelings and other teenage girly stuff. Holiness, and hating the sin but not the sinner. The crazy thought that God knows us better than we know each other. Better than we know ourselves.
We sat there broken. Together. Which was the best of all.
***
Outside the Goodwill, we constructed ourselves a pretty swell dinner table without while drawing lots of attention to ourselves. Pizza, gatorades, and rain out the wazoo served us well. Except for the fact that everyone's gatorades were left in the car. So duh I volunteered as tribute (stupid), and almost killed myself running across the parking lot to and fro with five different drinks and a full piece of pizza in my mouth - I'm a lady, I swear.
Our first rainy - very rainy hiking experience together was a good one. It was refreshing to take ourselves out of our frantically changing world. At least what appeared to be such. But in all honesty, it's the same tilt and rotation. Same seasons coming and going. Same rising and setting sun.
Maybe we're changing, eh? I like it.
