They say the first rain of May has healing power. So, when I opened my eyes on Saturday morning and heard the sound of the rain falling down, I immediately jumped out of bed. It was barely a drizzle —too light to fill up a bowl, but substantial enough to build a puddle on our deck.
For a second, I felt anxiety rush through my body. Then, I stopped to think…
I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a paper napkin and a bowl. Then, still bare foot and in my nightgown, I opened the front door and kneeled on our wooden porch.
I carefully soaked the paper napkin in the biggest rain puddle I could find and squeezed it into a clear bowl —once, twice, three times and again—, and, as I kept soaking and squeezing, tears began rolling down my face. I desperately wanted to catch every rain drop in that puddle, wash my face with it and make the cancer phantom go away.
I looked up to the sky overwhelmed with joy and appreciation, for I had caught the first rain of May. I felt invaded by a deep sense of gratitude and, as I kept sobbing, it hit me: the rain did in fact have healing powers, and it had little to do with cancer. The first rain of May had restored my belief and my faith.
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