Rainy SeasonPosted: May 8, 2009
Rain-outs are rough. Ben’s little league team has now been rained out three times in a row and the forecast for Friday’s game is bleak. Let’s just say he’s not taking it well. Especially because he didn’t have a game on the one nice day this week but, of course, his brother did. “It’s not fair!”
I can relate. I hated rain-outs when I was a kid because I was so passionate about playing baseball. Certainly more passionate about little league than practicing the piano. The great injustice of my 10-year-old world was that piano lessons never got rained out. And in those weeks when I knew I hadn’t practiced enough I would have done anythingto avoid the disapproving glare of Mrs. Gluck.
As the dark clouds started to appear on the horizon, I remember doing the anti-rain dance. This was similar to the snow dance, hoping school would get canceled, the major difference being that it was performed while wearing my Bulldozers uniform. And it rarely worked. And when it didn’t, when the rain clouds burst and drenched the field, I’d start to throw things — my hat, my glove, whatever I could find. My mother would then lecture me about not taking out my own personal disappointment on the rest of the family. She’d tell me it’s okay to be disappointed but that it wasn’t okay to take it out on people who had nothing to do with it. The precise lecture I had to give Ben yesterday.
We all have proverbial rain-outs in our lives. Things don’t always go according to plan; disappointments abound. And we want to throw our gloves and blame others or throw our hats and blame God. By doing so we open ourselves up to receiving that same lecture that I’ve both gotten and given.
I knew a priest who used to ask the following question when disappointments arose in life: “Is it my plan for God or God’s plan for me?” It’s an important reminder about perspective. Though I realize it doesn’t go over so well when all you want to do is get back out onto the little league diamond.