Mail Call

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I just love the deep growling, rumbling and pounding of a thunderstorm! It is a not so subtle reminder of the power of Mother Nature. I’m in the basement with my binoculars looking for the kids with that first clap of thunder because I can’t hear them anywhere from the porch. I can see across the hay fields that the kids have gone to the mail box. What likely started out as a leisurely stroll has morphed with the sudden storm and they are running now. Wet mail and packages are gripped tight. I can see the boxes are crushed and mushy from the onslaught and haphazard mode of transportation. The boys in their muddy boots stomp and splash on the dirt road. The kids are racing the rain more than each other for the half mile back. They are still a ways off and I can hear shrieks of laughter carrying on the wind. They approach the house giggling, panting and nearly breathless. Stumbling onto the stoop and soaked to the bone they are smiling like it is Christmas and muddy up to the knees. These kids are joyful about being soggy and delivering packages and envelopes that look like they have been through a wringer. And as abruptly as turning off a light switch — it is over. The roar is replaced by silence and a few disappointed groans from my wet boys. I gathered the mail and watched them run back out to splash for awhile longer. Just today I had a firm grip on my umbrella not willing to get wet when I had to go to town on errands. Maybe I need to take a lesson from the kids. How long has it been since you felt JOYFUL about being caught in the rain?