There Will Come Soft Rains

I needed to walk today. There are more obvious reasons, such as missing many of my workouts this last week for a variety of impositions in my schedule.  But, there are always other things which weigh upon the mind.  Everyone has them: some things joyful, others more ponderous and stressful all wrapped up in their implications for our daily lives.

The day broke heavy with clouds and a drizzling rain. Motivation to get out of bed can be challenging on a day such as today, when your mattress wraps its arms around you and a book begs to be read.  I steeled myself against what appeared to be another wet and cold day.  It would be warmer and dryer to head to the gym, but I decided to bundle up in sweats and a hoodie and head for my typical 1.5 walk in the neighborhood. 

Spring comes to Boise earlier than to much of the rest of Idaho, still encased in snow and sub-freezing weather.  I often invite family and friends to visit so they can enjoy Spring twice.  As I set out, gusts of wind threaten my comfort. Clouds mist the mountains leaving powdered sugar on their peaks. Almost immediately, however, birdsong becomes apparent. Chickadees are joyfully ringing their message and flirting in their flight path, more fanciful than direct in their course. Quail, who I’d seen scurrying about in covies only a week or two before, are making their way in couples.

Everything seems more vibrant in the rain. Greens are more lush, flowers more radiant. Even the dribbling sound of rain in the sewer grates makes me feel like I am in a Japanese garden listening to a bamboo water fountain. The grass grows in unmowed tufts, which I secretly enjoy, despite my husbands need for a manicured lawn. Everything beckons to slow down and take it in.  I am reminded of one of my favorite poems by Sara Teasdale (1920):

There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pool singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

I often think about the significance of Spring rain and its ability to wash away ugliness in the world, and replace it with such beauty and a sense of newness. In the same way our Savior, Jesus Christ, is able to cleanse us from the weariness and pain of our sins and vicissitudes. He can renew our spirits whether sullied by sin, war, tragedy, or the evil choices of others and replace it with peace, health, happiness and joy.

Yes, I needed to walk.