The saying goes: “April showers bring May flowers,” and really what it’s saying is: “April hope brings May joy.” But actually I think the saying was a way to appease, to calm, to relieve, to pacify. If we just suffer through this month of rain, we shall be rewarded with flowers in the next month. But April donned her cloak of watery sheets and announced herself not as a consolation prize or as a suffering but as warm breaths from the sun and white clouds that amble with ease and as nourishing rains that kiss the earth’s skin with tenderness. She said, “Without my love for the soil and without my hope for what can grow there, May may not be all you expect it to be.” April is unapologetic in her showers for she knows it comes from a place of deep love, of hope.
April is just that – deep love and hope. As grass ombres from brown to yellow to deep green, and birds flit through the warming air and dash between spouts of rain, we also find ourselves rejoicing in the greatest story of deep love and hope. So fitting that in a month of cleansing showers, we also celebrate the Resurrection. For three long days, hope remained. He has risen. Not a consolation prize, but the gift of all gifts – deep love and hope.
April is an invitation of love and hope. Rain has a way of blurring edges into a softness; and without edges and corners, we, too, feel soft, feel love. Air hangs differently in April, with her showers waiting in clouds overhead. Like every breath is bated with anticipation. What is it that rain does to the earth that then sends us all outside to throw our heads back and allow our arms to rise as we inhale, deeply? Those first deep breaths after rain has washed over the soil and soaked into gardens and left sidewalks clean and roads puddled. The freshness, a smell most claim to be one of their favorites. Rain sends us scrambling and ducking in one moment and then stepping out and dancing in the next. It is a washing over, a washing through. An invitation to dance, to sing, to rejoice, to hope.
April is believing, unequivocally, that something wonderful is about to happen. And not because we have suffered through but because something wonderful is happening now. We are witness to a love affair between the sky and the earth. We are sitting with a cup of warm coffee or tea as rain dances against the windowpane to a tune we know we’ve heard before. An old song called Hope. April is opening ourselves up to the possibility of beauty, of love, of goodness. We push open windows to the cacophony of heavy, fat drops and fill our lungs with the earthy tribute.
As April loves us, nourishes us into May, I invite you to rejoice in her. Let the waters cleanse you, rejuvenate you. May you find yourself in front of an open window, eyes closed, taking deep belly breaths as rain pours down. Let the dance wash over you, through you until you cannot resist and find yourself twirling, palms open and facing upward, your face soaked. I hope this month gives you ease, not suffering. I hope you feel deep love and are drenched in the hope of what will be, of what already is.