Rain brings flowers

I slumped in the seat of my dad's pickup truck, watching the raindrops fall from the sky and turn into mud puddles as they touched the earth below.

It had been raining for a solid week, and the ground had turned to slush with slips and slides around every corner. Tired of sitting and waiting, I stretched my premature legs out to allow my feet to touch the floorboard.

"Dad, it's been raining for days now," I whined, letting my elementary-aged, childish impatience get take the wheel.

"I know!" My dad exclaimed with bright eyes and his classic crooked smile. "Isn't it great?"

At age 10, I just didn't get it. What good was the rain for? It's just water, the same stuff that flowed from the sink, the shower, and my eyes when my pet goldfish died.

A few days later, my dad rustled me out of bed early in the morning, eager to show me something. I groaned and moaned as I rolled out of bed, because obviously, my ten-year-old self had a busy date book and much greater things to attend to.

We walked to a window, and as my father opened the blinds, a much-missed sunshine revealed itself through the cracks. The fields of the farm were lush and green, with the sun illuminating the light spray of dew covering the forage. The sky displayed a brilliant shade of blue, a perfect accompaniment to the slight chirping of birds across the horizon.

Suddenly, I got the importance of all that rain.

The past few weeks, I have been transported to the irritation of my former self of eleven years ago.

I would wake each morning to the sound of rain drops hitting my window. My shoes would be soaked solid by the end of each day. The rain was seemingly never ending, and with my head on my pillow each night, I hoped that the sun would clear for our Blue Mountains trip.

It didn't.

As we hiked and drudged through the soggy trails with sweat dripping under our layers of rain protection, I was tempted to whine and moan and groan, exuding the impatience of a 10-year-old with an age 21 body. By then I remembered, that if farm life has taught me anything, it's to be thankful for rain. I held my head high and marched on, keeping my outlook positive.

I've always kept the phrase "rain brings flowers" close to my heart both metaphorically and literally, through hard times and bad weather. As I struggled with both through the pouring rain with soaking wet socks and a killer headache, I wondered if any flowers of sort would come out of this experience.

They did. And in a magnificent way.

I'll never complain about the rain again. I know I say that a lot, but really, I mean it this time! ;)