Weathering Life's Storms

It has rained almost every day for the past two weeks. 

The pasture across the street from my house has been shrouded in a thick layer of fog for days, and the only sign of the cattle is their occasional mournful bellow. At least it sounds mournful to me—they are likely just talking to each other and planning their next grazing location. 

Monday night, we had tickets for a Gregory Alan Isakov concert at the lake. It was about an hour drive from our house, and we detoured through downtown to pick up two of my friends before heading south to the far side of the lake. 

The clouds were dark and swollen as we motored out of the city and into the country. Several times during our drive, the clouds burst, pouring out a torrent and slowing us to a crawl. When we turned off the highway and bobbed along the rolling hills of Pittsylvania County, rivers of red clay ran alongside the road. The cars ahead of us kept their hazards on, a steady drip of bright light in the otherwise gray landscape. 

After forty minutes of driving through farmland, we finally reached the lake, and the houses grew progressively larger. Eventually, we found the venue and were directed to park on the side of a one-way street along with the other latecomers. The concert time had been moved up by thirty minutes, and with the treacherous conditions on the drive in, we were running late. 

We zipped ourselves into our rain coats, grabbed our umbrellas and lawn chairs, and began the hike to the entrance. 

The venue was an outdoor amphitheater overlooking the lake. Had it been a nicer day, we would have been able to see the still, blue water dotted with boats and the multi-million dollar mansions perched on the shore. But with the rain and dark, the road just seemed to end and drop off into an endless sea of ink. 

Despite the weather, concertgoers came out in full force, and the hillside facing the stage was full of umbrellas and lawn chairs and poor souls who had chosen to sit on picnic blankets. 

The music started before we got our tickets scanned, and the warm notes of “The Fall” smoothed over the harsh taps of rain on my hood. We found a spot near the back of the soon-to-be muddy field and sat, realizing immediately that our view was obstructed. The audio booth was dead center, and an army of umbrellas blocked the little action we could see. 

But with rain still pouring, we didn’t want to wait any longer before settling in beneath the protection of our umbrellas, so we sat and listened. My umbrella was small, but my husband came prepared with his raincoat, waterproof pants, and military boots. I think he stayed drier than me.

While the evening did not go as planned, we found ourselves laughing for most of the night. The music was muffled by the weather, but I found myself humming along to my favorites. There was something magical about listening to “Sweet Heat Lightning” with my eyes closed, rain misting my face. 

After about an hour, my husband went to procure some food and returned with the most delicious steak and cheese sandwiches I’d ever eaten. We dabbed our mouths with damp napkins and giggled through mouthfuls of steak and peppers.

When the concert ended, we slogged through the mud back to the car and spread beach towels over the seats. With the heat on low, we drove home slowly. The rain had started again. 

The entire experience reminded me of college, when I did silly things like camp outside the football stadium the night before home games. It rained for hours, and we were sent home in the middle of the night, soaking wet and freezing from half the night in wet hammocks. Or when I went barefoot running with my roommate on the track because it was supposed to be better for your feet than running in a cushioned shoe. I fell out of bed the next morning because my calf muscles were so tight. 

It also reminded me that things don’t have to be perfect to be memorable or enjoyable. While I would have liked the weather to have been nice and maybe had an unobstructed view of the stage, I still enjoyed myself and had a nice time with my friends and husband. 

It would have been really easy to let the weather dampen the mood. I could have allowed myself to be miserable and have a bad attitude about the situation, but I found myself laughing for most of the night. While I don’t think I’m going to do something like that again anytime soon, I know that I can still find joy in life, even if I’m weathering a storm.