I drove to Ruby’s school to pick her up, like I do every Friday. I sat in the car and waited.
The overcast day started to clear up, and then…bam. Rain started falling, fast and thick. The asphalt filled with bouncing silver coins. I gazed through the front windshield, mesmerized. Drops hit, clear concentric circles melting into each other.
I saw a small Hispanic woman, hood up, huddling under a black umbrella. The water coursing down the pane obscured her features. Her image became distorted behind the wet wavy glass. She crossed the street, hustling between passing cars.
It brought to mind this verse: Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. – I Corinthians 13:12
Do we ever really see things the way they are, or does the filter of our own flesh skew the scenery? I mean, I was looking through a (mostly) clean windshield. It made me wonder. I fumble through this reality at times because I want to choose my own. My vivid imagination takes over. I pass up truth, distracted by the shiny object. Maybe I miss the important details without the wipers of the mind of Christ (I Corinthians 2:16) shoving the troublesome planks aside. Maybe I forget to love.
Crazy rain transitions us to fall. Soon enough, the rain will be a constant presence. Cloudbursts will lessen and the sky will rain with a purpose, drumming on and on. It gives me some hope. My sight can adapt to constant rain pouring down. See, I have so much yet to learn. I pray to gain more grace and understanding, going forward. I desire more clarity.
Thanks for reading my 800th post.