I cried today. I was driving with my windows down and sunroof open and it was humid and sunny and rainy and windy. Really windy. My hair started to break loose from its pigtails, which I had fashioned to look funky and sleek and funny and nice and the real point of the tails was to hide the fact that my hair needs to be cut. Badly. The free hairs began to curl, as they often do when it's humid and windy and about to storm. My own weather channel, right atop my head. The storm wasn't far away. I could see it. I could hear it. I could smell it even. But, I couldn't feel it. Not yet. So, the tears substituted for the raindrops that were too far to taste, but close enough to crave. I wanted to feel each cleansing drop, drenching me, through to my soul. A metaphor of sorts. I wanted to leave my sunroof open, let the down pour in. Forget about keeping my car clean and dry. Forget about keeping my hairs neatly fastened on each side of my head in black rubberbands and bobby pins. Forget about the stresses of the weekend and the week ahead and life and forget about the pain that He has taken away already. I wanted to remember the cleansing, the fact that the dark spots are gone, removed, forgotten. I am clean, renewed, forgiven. And it's a gift and it's beautiful and lovely and perfect and something that I take for granted too often. So, the storm reminded me of the furry and wrath and grace and perfection and of the blood and the cross and the bread of life, which sustains me. And I cried. Because there is nothing more beautiful.