When it rains on your parade

By PATTIE MIHALIK

newsgirl@comcast.net

The birds are singing the sweetest song. It sounds like a big chorus with various kinds of birds singing different parts.

What makes it incongruous for me is the rest of the scene the steady downpour that started early in the morning and won't let up.

I often wondered where birds go when it rains like this. I picture them with their heads turned under their feathered wings, hiding from the elements.

I don't picture them singing the sweetest symphony like they are now doing. It's as if they were thinking: OK. It's raining. So what? It's not going to ruin our day. We're still going to sing.

What do you do when it rains on your parade?

Do you sing your sweetest song? Or do you grumble about your ruined plans?

It rained on my parade twice this week. No wonder. It's been one of those weeks when God seems intent on watering the flowers all day long with a fire hose.

A few days ago early in the morning David and I did what we so often do: We looked at each other and said the same thing: Let's go biking. It's like we share the same thought process.

Black clouds were moving fast, but it wasn't raining yet. We decided we could get a ride in if we went early enough.

"Don't go far," I told him. "We might get caught in the rain.

"So what?" he answered. "It's only water."

David always rides out front, leaving me to follow him. With the impending rain, I thought he was going too far from home, but of course I followed anyway.

About an hour from home, the heavens opened up and someone up there turned on the sprinkler system at full blast.

David kept riding. I kept following. But I told him if we got lightning, we had to seek shelter.

Sure enough. Thunder and lightning led us to take shelter under the eaves of someone's house. I figured even if they would have opened the door and found us there, they wouldn't mind giving us shelter from the storm.

We waited about 40 minutes with no further lightning, just rain ... lots of rain. But we started to ride the long way home anyway.

By then the gutters in the street were filling with rainwater, and we had to be extra careful of the sleek streets.

Wet is wet. So I though we couldn't get any wetter. But when the rain came down even heavier, it felt like we were getting pelted with ice.

The funny thing is, when we got safely home, I said: Well, that was a fun adventure. All it took was some dry clothes and I was glad we got a ride in.

My upbeat attitude was a vast improvement over the old, less thoughtful me. Back then, as soon as we got off the bikes, I would have said: I TOLD you not to go far.

In later life I realize how harsh and unnecessary it is to ever say, "I TOLD you so."

I have an acquaintance who says that to her husband all the time. Last time I was there, she was berating him for cutting some boards the wrong size.

"I TOLD you to measure carefully," she chastised.

Her words didn't correct the situation, but it did make her husband walk away with slumped shoulders.

I couldn't complain about being caught in the rain even if I wanted to because David reminded me that I'm the one who always says I don't mind rain. I seldom let it ruin my parade.

For at least a few decades, whenever I go on vacation, I pack light rain gear. Then if it rains, and of course it always rains a bit on vacation, I can put on my rain gear and have an outdoor adventure.

That's what David and I had managed to do on our bikes. It rained on our parade, but we had fun anyway.

The next day, we went kayaking to a new kayak put-in the county just built. We were looking forward to being two of the first kayakers to discover the newly built kayak put-in.

But when we got there, we discovered it was nothing but a smelly mudhole. We grumbled about the "the dumb county officials" who didn't finish the job by spreading some shells or gravel so people could get to the water.

A really nice guy who came to stand with us said he was one of the county officials responsible. He said the county had done all the government allowed it to do in federally protected mangroves.

Determined not to waste the day, we left that site for another close kayak put-in. We managed to find new water trails hidden away in creeks seldom traveled.

Much to our surprise, the trip turned out to be one of our favorite trips of the year. The scenery was all "old-Florida" with Spanish moss hanging from big oaks and no sign of civilization.

Although it wasn't the trip we had planned for the day, it was so much fun exploring hidden areas accessible only by kayak. We vowed to find more out of the way places like that.

I think what struck me about those two occasions was the renewed lesson to not give in to disappointment.

When it rains on your parade, find a new route.