Who says that rain is not good? Myself, for one.
All these years my hatred of gloomy, ugly rainy days has been absolute, and it has only been intensified by the countless tennis sessions having been washed away. On a couple of occasions it even happened at the very moment I stepped onto the court, making me feel like a complete fool. Rain is such a nuisance, and the worst situation is when the cursed words 'a trough of low pressure' is mentioned in the weather forecast, because it guarantees that there's going to be rain, rain and more rain for days on end.
There was a touching story called Jenny that I read from the Christian magazine Guideposts. I remember Jenny, a devout Christian who was so good at appreciating life, telling her friend who lacked such faith and, like me, didn't like rain: "You can't hate rain. It brings spring." Or something to that effect.
But my hatred wasn't swayed a wee bit. "I do too hate rain," I would tell Jenny if I saw her. "It brings doom and gloom."
It is really until recently that I have learned to become more tolerant. I begin to convince myself that without rainy days, one will not be able to see how lovely sunny days are; that the sun is still there, only it has temproarily hidden behind the thick cloud. And all that.
And today I was taught a lesson by Mother Nature. By noon the morning rain had stopped, and I decided to take the lunchtime hike. As I strolled up the steep trail, it struck me how full of life the natural environment can be after the rain. It was such a feast to the senses. The air was so fresh. Here and there there life forms were moving about, such as the fluttering butterflies and the darting birds. The birds and the insects were singing a beautiful hymn in praise of God, with the sound of the tiny waterfall as background music. And the rain had adorned everything with a coat of sheen. It was almost magical and I was mesmerised.
Jenny was right. The rain does bring spring. And a lot more.
All these years my hatred of gloomy, ugly rainy days has been absolute, and it has only been intensified by the countless tennis sessions having been washed away. On a couple of occasions it even happened at the very moment I stepped onto the court, making me feel like a complete fool. Rain is such a nuisance, and the worst situation is when the cursed words 'a trough of low pressure' is mentioned in the weather forecast, because it guarantees that there's going to be rain, rain and more rain for days on end.
There was a touching story called Jenny that I read from the Christian magazine Guideposts. I remember Jenny, a devout Christian who was so good at appreciating life, telling her friend who lacked such faith and, like me, didn't like rain: "You can't hate rain. It brings spring." Or something to that effect.
But my hatred wasn't swayed a wee bit. "I do too hate rain," I would tell Jenny if I saw her. "It brings doom and gloom."
It is really until recently that I have learned to become more tolerant. I begin to convince myself that without rainy days, one will not be able to see how lovely sunny days are; that the sun is still there, only it has temproarily hidden behind the thick cloud. And all that.
And today I was taught a lesson by Mother Nature. By noon the morning rain had stopped, and I decided to take the lunchtime hike. As I strolled up the steep trail, it struck me how full of life the natural environment can be after the rain. It was such a feast to the senses. The air was so fresh. Here and there there life forms were moving about, such as the fluttering butterflies and the darting birds. The birds and the insects were singing a beautiful hymn in praise of God, with the sound of the tiny waterfall as background music. And the rain had adorned everything with a coat of sheen. It was almost magical and I was mesmerised.
Jenny was right. The rain does bring spring. And a lot more.
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