I have a love/hate relationship with the rain.
On days where I have nowhere to be and nothing that needs to get done, I love it. I love listening to it from the coziness of my bed, letting the boys watch it from the front porch, and staying in our pjs all day being lazy. I’m a bit of a social introvert and will take any excuse to stay home, see no one, and do nothing. I love that it waters my grass and plants outside and saves us from having to run our sprinklers. Most of all, I love it’s smell- anyone else?
But as much as I love the rain, there are plenty of other reasons to dislike it. Have you ever tried getting two kids and all of the “stuff” they require into a building when it’s pouring down rain? Let me just tell you, it is probably one of my least favorite things to do on this planet. Just, no.
Also, unfortunately living in north Texas means that rain is often accompanied by the risk of hail/tornadoes. So then we get to do the whole ‘squeeze the entire family into the guest bathtub’ thing while wearing bike helmets and covering ourselves with the toddler mattress. Or, we get to look forward to the hundreds of roofers knocking on our doors trying to replace our hail-damaged roof. I kid you not-we actually had a roofing company knocking on our doors one evening as. it. was. hailing. I’m sorry-can you please wait for the hail to stop before you start knocking door-to-door?
As I sit here on this incredibly hot July day, wishing for the rain to come and bring some relief, I can’t help but think about how my thoughts on it have changed.
Friday, May 25, 2018 is near the top of the list for worst days of my life. It was the day I had to bury my daughter. I won’t go into many details of that day or the emotions it brought with it, at least not yet...but I do have to tell you the role that the rain played on that day.
It was a long drive from Plano to Van Alstyne, Texas. I think it was made even longer by the fact that we were following a hearse containing our daughter’s casket. As we drove up Hwy 75, Eric and I were both pretty quiet. I was feeling numb, trying to process what had just happened at the funeral and what was about to happen at the cemetery. The closer we got to Van Alstyne, the darker the sky became. Day seemed to be turning into night, and as I checked the radar on my phone I could see that we were heading straight into the eye of the storm. I remember thinking, ‘Please Lord, just let us bury our daughter. Just let us get through this.’
We pulled up and got out of the car. The first thing I noticed was how much cooler it was-the temperature had dropped a good 20-30 degrees. My dad and Eric’s dad had the job of carrying Harper’s casket to the cemetery plot. The funeral home had set up a little tent with chairs for the family to sit and a table to place the casket on. Our pastor knew that our time before the storm hit was limited, and quickly read some scripture and prayed with us. Then, the casket was opened and our families were able to go say their goodbyes to Harper. Next, it was our turn with the boys. This is when the wind really picked up. The table that held Harper’s casket was shaking and the funeral home employees were doing what they could to stabilize it. The tent that we were under started moving violently and seemed as if it would crash down on us at any moment. All of the men in our family each held a tent pole and tried to steady it in place as the boys kissed and waved goodbye to their sister. Finally, it was time for Eric and I to say our goodbyes. As we were telling Harper how much we loved her and how much we missed her, a tree next to her grave was uprooted from the ground. Yep. Not even a small baby tree that had just been planted, but a well grown tree that had been planted for months and months. In fact, that same tree is still laying in the cemetery today- a constant reminder of the storm of that day.
The casket was closed and a part of us was inside of it. A part of us that we will never get back this side of heaven. We quickly walked back to our cars as it began sprinkling. The moment we had strapped the boys in and shut our car doors, it began to pour. I looked back to see the men frantically trying to bury our baby girl before the rain completely flooded the hole they had dug for her. When I turned to Eric, I knew he was thinking the same thing that I was.
It seems cliche and now, even a little silly, but we felt like the weather at the cemetery that day was an exact reflection of what our hearts were feeling. An outward symbol of our inward emotions. Maybe even... what Christ was feeling as he watched from heaven. At least we would like to think so. I know we serve a God that has complete and total empathy for his children as they suffer. He does not enjoy the fact that this world brings us such pain and heartache. I’d like to think that that storm, at that exact time and place, was meant to show Eric and I God ‘got it.’ That he saw us. That he knew our pain and was torn right along with us.
You may be asking why. Why does God allow such suffering if he hates to see us in pain? And to that, I say-Jesus. I know, typical church bible study answer, right? But honestly, God sent his son to a sinful and broken world so that one day our pain and heartbreak would be gone. Jesus died to give us the opportunity to live forever with him in heaven. A place where there will be no weeping or pain. Not even a bad hair day! Because I trust in Jesus as my savior, I can have a relationship with him and know that any heartache I experience here on Earth will be temporary. Thanks to Jesus, we have a perfect home yet to come.