When I was in the Dominican there were nights like this. Quiet, stormy and thought provoking. The way the wind whipped my long blonde hair and tossed it around my face made me feel more alive than I had in a while. It was if it were saying “Come with me, I have wisdom to share with you.” I would sit in the rain letting the drops wash over my face hoping they would cleanse me of everything I had ever done. I longed to be a new person in that moment of healing. I hoped that when I returned home I would never be the same. That works for a little, but soon old habits come back and you forget about the you that stood in the rain and swore she would be different. And as I stand here now years later on the other side of the world I’m reminded of that night, that desire. I wonder why change is so hard to achieve in yourself, yet when you don’t wish for it to happen it seems nothing can stop it. I’ve learned it needs to be a daily event, hypothetically standing in the rain and decide I will be different. And perhaps one day I will make the me back then proud by being the woman I promised God I would be. Every battle worth winning is just that, a battle. And I refuse to loose this one, again.
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