My broken shell

     I've never really understood people's oppositions on the rain. Personally, I've always loved it, though I understand I'm in the minority. Most people hate it; fear it. Fear of what storms it might bring with it or what patio furniture it might damage. The world stops when it rains. American's love to act like the rain keeps them indoors, when most of them never go out and enjoy the earth anyways. I love the rain. I love the rain for many reasons. I love the way it changes the sky in just a matter of minutes. I love the rush on the streets, as people scurry to find safety inside their homes. I love the warm pavement. I love the noise it makes as it rattles its way from above all the way to the ground and the grass drinks it up. I love the smell and the moistness in the air it leaves, like its of spraying its scent on letters to beloved. I love the raindrops and the way they race each other to the ground, fighting to remain individual during the downpour. Everything about it, I love it. So, when most people are running to get out of it, I'm usually trying to find the fastest route into it. The smell is intoxicating, the sight is invigorating, but the feeling.
     That feeling of warm raindrops absorbing into your skin, making your eyesight blurry as the weight of the water causes the canopy that is your lashes collapse. Deep breath. You can't help but have a smile wrap across your face. It's like nothing I've ever felt before, so it's something I have to feel as often as possible. It is the essence of freedom, you can feel the extraction of bravery try to escape your skin in the form of goosebumps. It is liberating. Deep breath.
     I love the rain, because it's real and real almost always insinuates anxiety or awkwardness. Most people run from it instead of embrace it. But for me, the rain makes me feel whole.

     As you can tell, not even conversations about the weather is something I pass. My friend Olivia tells me I like to take light conversations ocean deep more than anyone she knows. Maybe that's true, or maybe I'm just the only who doesn't have the patience for the small talk that gets us there. Either way, I like to think things matter. I've been a person too long to believe that any one person just has one layer and that all those layers are unscathed. Even if I'm not the person they show those other layers to, that they're shown to someone and brought into the light.

     When I think about Jesus and the transfiguration (Matthew 17:2, Mark 9:2-3), I think about what I would've looked like on that mountain top if I were in Jesus' position. Jesus took His closest friends to show them a part of Him that He hadn't shown anyone before. Transfiguration is defined as, "a complete change of form or appearance into a more beautiful or spiritual state." Of course, when Jesus transfigured, it says His clothes became radiant and His face shone like the sun. 
     I try to imagine my own transfiguration. I imagine me taking my three closest friends atop a mountain and allow that bright light hit me the same way it hit Jesus. Though instead, that light wouldn't be radiating from me but from behind me.
     I would look down at my body, my arms limp like a scarecrow, staring at the light that shines through the cracks from my damaged layers. I'd look down and see the parts of me that have broken and my friends see them, too, filled with the light.
     How freeing it must be to show someone your naked soul and let them in to fill those cracks. I've formed those relationships and every encounter of that friendship feels like rain to me. All of our shells have been broken, rain is soothing, but it's never silent. If you have yet to feel that rain, through friendships or through the weather, fill those cracks with rain until they're overflowing.

The sun shines through the cracks of my silhouette

Leaving mystery to outsiders to memories I'll never forget

Those cracks become open wounds become scars that never truly heal

And as the clouds cover the sun's light

It's easier to hide my broken exterior from watching eyes

All those fake faces imprisoned in clear prisms around me

My body screams for the truth to be set free

Free

The naked soles of my feet feeling the warm pavement beneath me

In the pouring rain, I've never felt so free

Dressed only in raindrops, soaking clothes and vulnerability

My arms open wide and my face to the sky

I look up at the water that will inevitably fall on me

And wait for those droplets that allow me to blossom where I've been planted

To allow my broken shell have its cracks filled by that holy water

I'll stand in this rain long enough for these cracks to overflow