The Carpenters famously sang, “Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.” Although it was a catchy tune, I never really understood the sentiment behind the lyrics. I’ve always loved rainy days. And, for years, my day of Sabbath rest, my favorite day of the week, has been Monday. I can think of little I enjoy more than a quiet day, snuggled under a quilt, with hot tea and books (and perhaps a fire in the fireplace), with the sound of falling rain as gentle background music.
Today was such a day in Gatlinburg. The sky was overcast as I walked next door to Mass just before 8.
By the time I got back, John was ready to go for a walk. I elected to return to our room instead, and spent several hours sitting on our balcony, reading, praying, and watching the clouds roll in over the mountain. I’ve been fascinated watching the changes. The sky has gone from blue with a variety of white clouds to grey with billows of smoke-like clouds rising from behind the mountain. As I write, there is gentle, steady rain, and the mountain is blanketed with cotton wool mist. The balcony door is open, so I can listen to the rain. And I am snuggled under a quilt. All is calm. All is lovely.
Christine Valters Paintner has written:
This is why we journey,
to retrieve our lost intimacy with the world,
every creature a herald of poems
that sleep in streams and stones.
The last two days already have been such a gift, but not really in the way I expected. I had thought perhaps we would be driving through the Smokeys, appreciating some of the spectacular natural beauty. Instead, I have stayed in our room, in the heart of downtown Gatlinburg, and been blessed by the rain, the changes on the mountain, and the gentle ripple of the stream beneath our balcony. I’ve had hours to notice…just to notice. The delicious warmth of mint tea. The cable car making its way slowly up and down the mountain, even in the rain. How the clouds nestle in the pockets of the hills. The songs of the birds. The dogwood just about to burst into bloom. The changes of light. And the gentle music of the rain. Always the rain.
How many poems, I wonder, sleep in the streams and stones, the mountains and clouds, the trees and flowers I will encounter on the way? How many will I take time to notice? How much “lost intimacy with the world” will I be able to retrieve? And in so doing, how closely will I be drawn to the heart of the Great Poet who placed all these wonders just so, gifts to be discovered with delighted surprise by those He loves?
“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page,” wrote Saint Augustine of Hippo. Today I feel as though I’ve been blessed to read a whole chapter! Soli deo gloria!!!
Here are a few photos taken from our balcony at various points throughout the day. Hard to believe it’s the same view, isn’t it? I especially love the variety of clouds in the first one, taken about 9AM.
