Rainy Mornings and Broken Hearts

I am thankful for rainy mornings and broken hearts.

This morning as I walked to class in the pouring rain, I found myself on the verge of tears as I thought about our Tuesday night conversation. The words replaying over and over in my mind like a broken record. The same words that ended a season in our lives and shattered this porcelain heart of mine.

As the first tear slid down my cheek, I tried to be angry. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be angry at God for giving me what I had wanted and waited for for so long only to strip it away once I was already head-over-heels.

My heart hurts. Oh! How it hurts.

And the harder I tried to be mad at God, the more I became aware of the rain falling around me.  It was a pathetic fallacy, really.  It was as if nature was weeping with me.  Mourning for my broken heart.

I stepped in a deep puddle, soaking my flip-flopped feet and reminding me of something I had chosen to ignore this morning:

I love the rain.

Suddenly, a smile overtook the frown that had painted itself on my face as I purposely jumped in every puddle I saw. This earned me lots of strange glances from the students around me, but I didn’t care, because it also reminded me that despite the storm raging in my heart and in my life, I can still dance in the rain.

There was a deep puddle ahead and I ran straight for it, determined to make a splash. The cold water splattered onto my clothes and drowned my feet. It’s something he would never do with me. No matter how many times I begged, he would never jump in puddles with me, for he was too focused on the storm. The same way I have been focused on the storm since Tuesday night.

Yes, my heart is broken, and yes, it hurts worse than any pain I have ever experienced. The pain I feel is all I can think about all of the time. He is all I can think about. I constantly find myself asking God “Why?” Why would He allow me to fall headfirst only to strip it away? Why would he fill my cup only to pour it out?

Why?

Why?

Why?

I do not understand, and perhaps I never will. But if God was small enough to be understood, then He would not be big enough to be worshipped. For “[God’s] thoughts are not [my] thoughts, Nor are [my] ways [His] ways” (Isaiah 55:8).

As the rain continues to fall, I feel as if my world is falling apart, just like my heart. But maybe, just maybe, it is only falling into place…

I am thankful for rainy morning, because they remind me to dance in the rain.

And I am thankful for broken hearts, because they remind me that it is when I am broken that God’s grace is revealed.

It is here at my end where God begins.