Rinse Our Way to Love

Photo by Nick Nice on Unsplash

I wake early but feel it’s too soon to rise. I shift, searching for a comfortable spot next to Rich’s warm body, willing myself back to sleep. Eyes closed, I hear the faint murmur of what I think is rain.

The sound comes closer, soft and rhythmic. The rain begins to tap against the roof and windows, its gentle rhythm like a whispered lullaby. Part of me hopes it will lull me back to sleep, but my mind awakens instead. The rain stirs a thought about something I had read recently. It was about finding the invitation to our challenges – urging us to use curiosity as our guide to make sense of things that don’t make sense in the moment.

I wonder if the rain is asking me: What if this is an invitation? A gentle rinse—washing away the heaviness of the past weeks, the fears, the doubts?

The idea soothes me. Oh, how I need a refresh—a recalibration. A slow, steady way forward.

Drop by drop, I imagine the rain helping me release what has weighed me down, inviting me to transform fear into purpose. Yet I’ve been stuck, sinking deeper into the muck of emotions.

For weeks, I’ve been rising before the sun to sip tea and write my thoughts, hoping the words would make sense of the emotional roller coaster I’ve been riding. But even words—my usual refuge—have felt elusive. Each time I sit down to write, I start, stop, and start again, unsure how to articulate the weight of what I’m feeling.

This morning, though, the rain won’t let me stay in bed. I gently slip away from Rich, grab my computer, and make tea. Settling into the quiet, I open yet another blank document. The soft glow of the screen is my invitation to find hope, to believe this moment holds the seeds of something new. To offer an alternative to staying in the anger, confusion, and disbelief. To find a way forward.

I pause and listen to the rain again.

The rain feels like a reminder: This is an invitation to begin again.

I pause to breathe and listen.

Breathe and listen.

The rain speaks to me of renewal. It whispers that even in our most divided moments, there is a path forward. But we must choose it.

Seeing Each Other

We’ve been so divided, so lost in ME that we’ve forgotten about YOU—forgotten about WE.

At our core, we all share the same basic human need: to be seen and heard. Yet, this need has blinded so many to other truths—truths about values, decency, and the fragility of our democracy.

I’ve struggled to understand how so many could overlook the glaring contradictions of a leader who made promises he does not intend to keep.

But then I remember: when we’re desperate to feel valued, it’s easy to ignore the messenger and focus solely on the message. Promises can become so alluring that we stop asking the hard questions—questions about the details, about consequences, about the deeper cost of those choices.

Misinformation and fear have deepened our divide, making it feel impenetrable. Yet, if I genuinely believe that everything happens for a reason, I must believe this division is an invitation. An invitation to see how fractured we’ve become and to find a way to heal—not with anger or blame but with compassion, care, and love.

I ache to find a way to see what has happened as the beginning of something. I am grasping for any lightness I can uncover …. a glimmer (or sliver) of hope.

I trust that everything happens for a reason, and I don’t need to know that reason now. All I need to do is to trust. Trust that we are heading in the right direction.

What helps me trust? Leaning on love.

Love as an Invitation

I’m reminded of bell hooks, who said:

"The moment we choose to love, we begin to move toward freedom, to act in ways that liberate ourselves and others."

This love isn’t easy. It requires us to listen when we want to argue, reach out when we feel like retreating, and see the humanity in those who seem so different from us. Love invites us to move beyond fear and step into curiosity. It asks us to lean on wisdom, compassion, and courage to guide the way.

Change, too, is an invitation. It’s not always gentle—sometimes, it feels like a slap in the face or a kick in the gut. But those moments, as painful as they are, are often the ones that propel us forward. They shock us into seeing what’s been right before us all along. They push us to grow, to let go of what no longer serves us, and to embrace something new.

A Fresh Start

I pause from writing, sit, and listen; as I sip my warm tea, I notice the rain begins to ease. The drops are fewer now, heavier, but sporadic. Still, they continue to fall, reminding me that renewal is a process, not a moment. The rain doesn’t wash everything away all at once. It works slowly, patiently, drop by drop.

Perhaps that’s what we need too—a slow, steady rinsing. An invitation to release the fear, the anger, the hurt. To start small, with one step toward love, one act of kindness, one moment of listening.

Let us rinse off the past weeks and begin again—not as perfect beings but as people willing to try. Willing to love. Willing to see each other.

I leave you with an excerpt from Kahlil Gibran’s On Love:

"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth."

This path isn’t easy. Love demands vulnerability. Change requires effort. But both invite us to grow, to begin again, and to move toward something greater than ourselves.

Let’s listen to the rain and accept its invitation to love.

“Wake a dawn with a winged heart, and give thanks for another day of loving.” Kahill Gibran

Be well, my friends. We will get through this together.