Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Blue Rain.....

I fell asleep reading.  I like my current read:  The Codex Alera series by Jim Butcher.  He's the same guy who  wrote The Dresden Files, which is an absolutely wonderful good-versus-evil wizard series. 

Usually when I fall asleep reading I stay asleep.  But, as you all know, insomnia has become my buddy lately.  So I'm sitting here drinking tea and contemplating life, and the way I handle life.

I don't know about all of you, but I have a tendency to want to explain things.  I explain to patients why 'cutting down' on smoking is not remotely the same as 'quitting smoking.'  I explain world politics (as I see them) to my kids.  And I want to explain, over and over and over again why I have failed to do all that a I need to do in a day. 

I know that last one is a total waste of my time and energy.  I really have no need to justify to anybody why I can no longer juggle eight balls at a time.  No, wait - let me explain!  I am STILL juggling eight balls, maybe ten, but six or more of them are invisible to everybody else!  Oh, right - no need to explain. 

So while I was lying on the knife-edge of sleep, the phrase, "Because of the blue rain" appeared in my head. 

"Blue rain?"

The inside of my head is an endlessly entertaining and entirely frightening location.  Clearly my general sense of daughter-guilt has been swirling around in there for some time, begging to be processed.  My mommy- and grandma-guilt have been vying for my attention as well.  Don't even get me started on church- and work-guilt.  There is no end to my feelings of inadequacy LOL.

"Blue rain."

Why can't I take Curlygirl to the doctor today?  Forget that I am on my way with Babygirl to the doctors in Philly.  It's because of the blue rain.  Why did I forget to pick up Babygirl's new dose of headache medications? Is it because I was packing boxes at mom's?  Nah - it was the damned blue rain.  Why can't I drop everything and pick up JuJuBee everytime she needs a ride someplace?  Raining.  Blue.  Why can't I pull together music for church anymore?  Pouring, absolutely pouring blue rain.  Why wasn't I more organized for Mom's move?  Because of the bright blue rain.  Why can't I remember to send Citygirl a text now and then?  Overwhelmed?  Not at all - it's just the drumming of the blue rain.

Somewhere in my subconscious the steady dripping of family stress and sickness has taken on literal color and texture and become rain.  Pretty, blue, soft and steady rain.  There is no logical explanation for why one family of so relatively few people has so much epic, catastrophic adventure.  Nothing that makes any degree of sense.  Some people have some blue rain kinda days. 

We have a blue rain kinda life. 

We cannot stop or control the weather.  And unlike snow, you can't shovel rain out of your way.  The water rises and falls, and the floods come and go, and we are helpless to make the rain go away.  I've compared our life to rowing a leaky boat before.  We keep bailing the boat and rowing as hard as we can.

There is an old maritime prayer:  "Lord, the sea is so big, and my boat is so small." 

Lord, there is so much blue rain.  And I'm tired of rowing.


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