Today, I decided that despite a chance of rain, I would walk downtown after I finished my Greek paper and treat myself to some frozen yogurt. Orange Leaf has the most delicious mango-flavored froyo, and it was (at least when I left) a warm, sunny day.
I retrieved my frozen yogurt, complete with pineapple and strawberries, and made my way to a bench just off of River Avenue, directly in front of a large bed of yellow tulips.
Suddenly, the wind shifted direction, the sky became overcast, and I could feel a slight chill in the air. Less than two minutes later, it was raining and I was sans-umbrella. Fantastic.
But as I walked home in the warm spring rain, I let my mind wander.
As I wandered through Centennial Park, I stopped for just a second and held my hands out, letting the water wash over me. Unlike the bitterly cold rain that usually comes with spring, this was a soothing, warm sort--strangely therapeutic.
And just for a moment, I thought that this is what baptism must feel like for a small child: you're suddenly wet, you have no idea how this happened, and you might very well wish that it wasn't happening at all. But it does. And life goes on.
So today, I can say that I am thankful for my baptism. I am thankful for professors and pastors who hold that before me so often that I can't help but think of it when I'm suddenly soaked with a sudden downpour. And I am thankful for rain--for the water that washes the earth.
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