This week ended with a rainstorm. Right now I hear drip, plop. Every few seconds, a bubble accumulates on the light fixture above me. When it gets too heavy, it drops into the bucket below. That leak along with the weeds that are growing on our hillside have been dormant for years. Both need to be tended to, but today I celebrate the wet and the growth that is messy and muddy.
We’ve had a few storms this year. Yesterday’s was predicted to be big. It hit hardest just before school let out.
I opened the classroom door, and the wind pushed us back. Sheets of rain blew into the covered walkway. Students who love the novelty of rain winced and walked purposely toward the more protected hallway. Parents of primary kiddos streamed in as the fifth graders made their way out to wait for their bus, their car, their afterschool program.
A fourth grader standing on the steps to the auditorium looked at me and asked, “Have you seen my sister? She has two missing teeth.” After a short silence, he added, “She has freckles.” He paused. “And blond hair.” Another pause. “She’s little.”
He was one of many brothers and sisters looking. Their usual pattern of “find your sister/brother” had been disrupted and the olders were on edge. With the assistance of teachers, siblings were united and bit by bit escorted under umbrellas to their waiting cars and buses. Soon the front of the school was quiet. All that could be heard was rain.
This week I celebrate the rain that announces a leaky roof and muddies the hillsides. I celebrate call of family and the seamless unspoken collaboration of teachers who take care of children no matter what. I celebrate seeing things that have been overlooked or taken for granted. I celebrate the uncomfortable that wakes us up and calls us to action.
Read other celebration posts here at Ruth Ayers blog, Ruth Ayers Writes.