The car was brimming with towels and snacks and goggles as they talked over the music in a frenzy of anticipation. It was a family day, a Hagerty favorite, all-around. There was a pause among their eager little voices just long enough for me to catch her mumbling.
“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” she said, louder than a whisper, but not loud enough to invite commentary.
The sky was crystal, not a cloud in sight. Rain wasn’t in the forecast for days.
Her words showed her hand. If you live by giving regular permission to worst-case-scenario expectations when they are possible, the situations that are mere longshots for disappointment still end up getting tainted with that soot.
Though my girls each had years unshaped by me, their struggles aren’t too far from mine. A child expecting rain from a spotless sky when she’s young practices a habit that matures with age, if it’s not interrupted. How many times have I let my mind cave into fear of what might be only to find I missed an opportunity to inhale Him in that moment He’d given me?