Rain Dance

The Rain Gods saw the dance of those two women on the mountain top and decided to show mercy on this dry and barren land.  Two days of rain and snow.  Not a dumping like we all dreamed, but enough to feel hopeful that perhaps there will be water for us next year.

On Sunday night, the day before we were officially free, our Governor begged us all to do our part to stop the spread.  No more team sports, large gatherings, or any gathering but immediate family.  The stores and restaurants and schools would remain open (hopefully) and businesses can function as normal.  But what they’ve found (as I personally know) that the transmissions were from family gatherings and sports teams.  This is in place for only two weeks, hopefully slowing down our out of control numbers.

So sad.

I know that a ton of people are devastated, but as my little family gathered to listen to him, after a week and a half of quarantine, the fact that businesses and schools and restaurants were still open, was like the best gift we could be given.  

That’s followed me all week, an overwhelming sense of gratitude for what things ARE open and STILL functioning.  And I’m grateful for how, in general, kind we are to each other and how optimistic we are that things will get better.  Wherever I go, for the most part, people are happy to wear masks (ok, not happy, but they do it—for each other),  stand their distance, and are sticking to their little families (however they decide what that is).  They are also brave enough to go shopping and keep their shops and cafes and hairdressers open.  

I keep thinking of those women who danced on top of a tall mountain. Who knows if they were doing a rain dance or not, they were brave and climbed a steep and slightly treacherous mountain in the hope of something beautiful.  

That’s all of us right now.  

We’re climbing through this crazy time with no guarantee that anything will work out.  As I look around, and see all those people around me smiling and hoping and being kind, I think, Dang, we are so making it through this.  

Yeah, it is HARD and annoying and frustrating and driving me CRAZY on the daily, but we are on this hike and there is no changing that.  So why not smile and enjoy the view—even if you’re gritting your teeth and swearing under your breath?  There is a top, there is always an arrival, and then there is a down. 

And think about how awesome our Thanksgiving will be next year—full to the brim with family and friends and hugs and kisses and sitting close together and maybe, just maybe, a bonfire of masks.  Who knows?  One can only dream . . .