Thursday, March 27, 2008

About I love a rainy night

Jazz on the radio down low but it's raining and I'm driving down I69 trying not to go as fast as the maniacs around me.
The windshield frames an modern Monet in motion before me, rain and night and the long streams of red tail lights and everything blurry, and the windshield wipers and the rain and the passing cars are so loud I can hardly hear the jazz.
Some thunder, too.
I start out thinking about what I have to do at work tomorrow, and end up thinking about the nature of God.
Which isn't such a stretch considering that tomorrow will be my fourteenth anniversary working for a religious company.
And if I thought that such close contact with devout (if occasionally irreverent) people would convert me, I was wrong. If my respect has grown and my knowledge expanded, I still fail miserably as a potential Catholic. Lord, I believe: forgive my unbelief.
I'm a bad Methodist too; I'd be a worse Baptist, a sad Mormon, a recalcitrant Lutheran. A weak Jew, a rebellious Muslim, an unfocused Hindu--that's me.
My religious views are as tenuous as my political ones. I thought a little about those, too, driving home in my warm and dry car, in the dark. God and Hilary Clinton (who's coming to Ft. Wayne tomorrow) and Barak Obama and John McCain and me, drivin' down the interstate on a late March night.
Thinking about God hurt my head, and thinking about politics affected my serenity, and thinking about how long I've worked in the same place made me feel a little old.
But the jazz and the rain and the warmth and the drive, those were all good: for a second there it all came together, and if it didn't make sense, theologically or politically speaking, it didn't matter -- everybody in the car agreed. Just for a moment.
How about you? How do you like the rain?

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