It isn't always raining.
And sometimes, I don't believe it.
Clarisse is in seventh grade. A bright, beautiful girl, she's tall for her age. Just over five and a half-feet tall. Her smile comes both quickly and often, a combination that's not necessarily seen in the tumultuous stages of Junior High School.
Her family is moving, her dad took a position as one of the vice presidents at the Colorado Christian University school and they're leaving in just under a month.
It's tough moving, and it's even tougher when you're in junior high or high school. But ask Clarisse about it and she'll flash a smile and tell you honestly she's still 50/50, back and forth.
Today she made cookies. "Grammy Morgan's recipe" she explained, giving tremendous weight to the statement. Saying she was making "Grammy Morgan's recipe" was like telling some street art collector you had an original Banksy, or finding out that your son or daughter had a full ride scholarship to Harvard. Even though Grammy had passed away more than a decade ago, her legacy, stories, and recipes have lived on.
This wasn't tomorrow, next week when they'd be gone visiting a state she knew very little about, or next month when they'd officially be moved out.
Today Clarisse was beaming as she made cookies that she knew were going to be incredibly tasty.
As her positive attitude, choice to keep her head high, and carefully measured and mixed ingredients baked slowly in the oven the house began to fill with warmth and delicious smells.
Too often what's coming, the unavoidable, the upcoming difficulties or anticipated struggles alight on my shoulders and start to weigh me down before they've actually happened.
I stare intently at something and how tough it's going to be to deal with and allow it to get me "down", distract me, or take my focus away from the present.
It was thundering every few minutes outside, the rain absolutely pouring down.
But inside where Clarisse was baking, it wasn't raining. Not yet.
Taking the mixing bowls full of flour, salt, eggs, sugar and various other ingredients firmly off the counter and putting them into the sink to wash, she was entirely focused on the task at hand.
Colorado could wait, Grammy Morgan's cookies wouldn't bake themselves.