"The most important of life's battles is the one we fight daily in the silent chambers of the soul."

Saturday, October 31, 2015

Fall Rain

I listen to the raindrops pour off the tin roof, as the sound of plopping water hits the ground. My heart feels like the rain in the autumn. Everything has died on the ground, preparing for the winter. The rain has fallen to the earth, only to bring forth no new life. It's kind of pointless I believe. Just like my teardrops that fall to water this same soil. Nothing grows in this season of my life. No amount of rain or raindrops can awaken the green shoots of life. It just makes everything wet. People avoid it to keep themselves from getting drenched. Just as friends avoid your troubles, in the believe that your sorrows will rub off on them. They just slog through the mud of your life and comment about how muddy it is. Basically, what a mess your tears have caused.

As you try to stop the teardrops with the things of this world, you can no more stop it than the rain that falls from the sky. You can seek shelter in your house, use an umbrella, or a raincoat. But the rain still comes. The teardrops still come.

Why are we the only creatures that shed tears? We do in physical pain, yes, but emotional pain the most. We seclude ourselves from others to cry, wiping each one away as another takes its place.
And just like the rain, it eventually stops. But in the autumn, the dark clouds remain. Cold winds blow across the landscape, chilling the body and the heart.

And so we bury the teardrops, as the autumn buries the rain. Hiding it away. Hiding it away for what? Is the rain ashamed it came in the fall instead of spring? Are we to be ashamed to feel loss, pain, or loneliness?

The rain remains deep in the earth until needed for the springtime of your life. Just as the teardrops remain deep in your heart. I cannot say when that time comes, but I feel like the tree in the fall loosing my leaves and pulling inward for the coming winter. Hoping for and remembering the days of spring, the days of life. But those days are behind me. So I prepare for the road ahead. And the rain will come, and tears will be shed, to help me prepare for the days of winter in my life.
By
Lance Gargus

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