Midweek: Sunroofs Are Better in the Rain

I recently left my old vehicle in dust. (Literally. They're doing construction in our neighborhood, and everything is covered!) She was not really mine --or never felt that way; she was somewhat unreliable, v-e-e-e-r-y quirky, but exactly what was needed for a season. Despite her advanced age, she had all the bells and whistles for her day; one of which --my fave --was heated seats. As our young man and I headed home from one of our last trips in the old girl, we ruminated on the one thing we would be forfeiting, the sunroof. It's actually my husband's favorite feature, a must-have for cruising the interstate on a sunny afternoon. And though I found it fun having the wind blow through my hair a bit, the fiery orb surrounded by whirling planets, the nemesis of black paint and pasty European skin, always seemed to place me in its crosshairs as it blasted its way into the interior of our vehicle. For me it earned its title as a sunroof and not so much a funroof. 

However, there were those trips through the car wash. Water pelting the glass as we remained safe and dry inside. Globules of soap spurting above us like a scene from Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. Whirling, scrubbing brushes thudding as we watched. We dared them to reach us. And in the rain? Droplets of rain bouncing off the glass, collecting and running in rivulets until we picked up speed, when all was whisked away. Even in light showers, we could pop the roof open just a bit, encouraging stuffiness to escape and the smell of rain to flood the car. 

I think Jesus teaches us to be somewhat unconventional in the way we live our lives. He came into this world in a very unconventional way, born to a couple no one would suspect would host and rear the Messiah. He chose His closest associates not from the synagogues of the religious elite, but from shores pungent with the smell of the fishing industry and from backgrounds fairly counter to spirituality and transient proselytizing. He spent hours in prayer despite unlimited miles of travel and multitudes of people wanting His blessing; Scripture makes no mention of a lengthy To-Do list tucked in His tunic pocket. He didn't hurry through meals or conversations; relationships were of the utmost importance. He spoke to those others sidestepped, and sidestepped those others worked to impress. He cradled children and wept with His friends. He caught naps at the most unlikely times. But because He is God, because He "so loves" the world, because He created every square inch of dirt on which He walked, I think it's pretty safe to say He enjoyed life with us. I imagine Him taking time to enjoy the ordinary and entertain the unique, drawing others in to appreciate those things. Hey, did you see that bee over there? Did you know he's got five eyes? Or maybe, Let's head to the widow's house. We'll guide her up the hill to watch the sunset the way her husband did.

I'm trying to be more like Jesus. So, I'm trying to be more intentional in the way I live. I'm trying to slow my pace and take notice of things --smell the roses, as they say. Actually, it's STOP and smell the roses, isn't it? Stopping is important. I'm trying to listen more and speak less. I'm trying to keep in touch with people and pray for them. I'm trying to jump in a few puddles along the way and listen for the clinking-clanging of a passing freight train nearby. I'm trying to allow others to do things for me and with me. I'm noticing the sun on my face and the sound of rain on the roof. And since I'm confessing, our new vehicle has a rear window I tend to pop open every chance I get just to savor the air outside. I'm trying to be mindful of these things so that I can enjoy all that God has given me, yes. But I want to praise Him, I want to give Him the glory --recognize reasons in every moment to give Him glory! Suss them out, call them by name, make mental notes, and do life with others so they can praise Him, too.