Cleaning Gutters in the Rain

Despite what popular culture tries to tell us by way of fancy memes, everything will not be okay. We can’t always pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and conquer the world(much less ourselves). We can’t always be awesome. Sometimes we can’t even connect the spoon to our mouth by way of simple nourishment. Weakness. Pain. Sorrow. Anger. We live in the real world where–more often than not–happily ever after is the successful flush of a toilet. If you’re anything like me, you look up and see the storm clouds forming and sigh. Because like it or not, you know what’s coming.

I loved my old house. It was this fabulous old brick bungalow that was built in 1927. It had a wonderful covered front porch and the obligatory swing. I loved to sit on that swing during a gentle rain and watch the rain drops pitter-patter on my butterfly bush. Rain makes me happy; excess water, however, does not.

My old house sat under a large Maple tree which was, quite literally, a pain in my back. That weathered old tree liked nothing more than to drop tree litter in my gutters. And because my life is busy, I didn’t get to clean them out as much as I would have liked to. Under normal circumstances, overflowing gutters are an inconvenience, but at this particular house, they were a disaster. The previous owner told me when I moved in, “The basement only floods when the gutters are full of leaves.” Quite frequently, instead of sitting on my front porch enjoying the rain, I was cleaning the gutters. It became kind of a joke between my husband and I because no matter how many times he told me NOT to clean the gutters in the rain(because he didn’t want me to get struck by lightning), I nearly always did it. Because I’m stubborn and because I didn’t want my bunnies(in the basement) to drown.

Gutters exist for rain. In a perfect world, they are cleaned regularly and function properly by guiding the water away from the structure of the house. But let’s be candid, life is busy and cleaning the gutters often takes a back seat to more critical activities(like making dinner, chasing errant squirrels out of the attic, and trying to determine where “that smell” is coming from). This is how I live my life; reactively. I feel like I live in a constant state of “cleaning the gutters in the rain.” For instance, this week I’ve been dealing with physical pain. And by pain I mean teeth chattering, bone grinding, struggling to sleep, pain. It’s a pain I can’t escape no matter how many ibuprofen I take. It makes me angry, and sad, and frustrated. But mostly, it makes me feel very, very fragile.

We live in a broken world where people are in a constant state of trying to relieve pain. Prince is our most recent example. He literally died from trying to relieve chronic pain. And let me be clear—we all have pain. Emotional pain. Relational pain. Physical pain. Truth be told, no one wants to live under the cloud of a constant ache. So here we all are, standing on the roof, with lightning and thunder clamoring overhead while we try to unclog our gutters so the basement doesn’t flood. Our tears mingle with the rain but nobody seems to notice(or care) as we stick our hands into the black muck and sigh. If they do, they are usually too busy with their own gutters to stop and offer a kind word.

This week I really needed a hug. Well, at the very least I needed someone to look into my eyes and see my sorrow. I spent the early part of the week reading my bible and praying. I pleaded with God to help me. And I kept bailing gutter sludge as the rain poured down. Yesterday, every step I took was an agony. I went out at lunch in search of pain meds, and when I walked back into the office a co-worker asked me if something was wrong. She said, “You seem out of sorts. Is everything okay?” After I told her that I was in pain she said, “Why don’t you go home and rest?” I smiled and lied. I said, “I will be okay.” Because I didn’t have time for the truth. Because my truth looks a lot like me curled up in a ball in bed for a month. That’s the kind of rest I need. But I have children to raise, and a paycheck to bring home and that kind of rest just isn’t always possible.

But here’s the beauty of my life, pain isn’t an excuse to stay miserable. I often find that when in times of excruciating pain, I experience God’s grace at its most full. In order to take my mind off the pain and other uncomfortable life circumstances, I have been memorizing a Psalm that reminds me of God’s goodness. That is why when earlier this week when another co-worker was complaining about the cold and cloudy weather, I said, “Yes, but the sun is shining above the clouds, and even though we can’t see it, it is just as lovely as it ever was.” And it’s true. Pain clouds our perceptions, just like clouds mask the sun. But that doesn’t mean the sun has stopped shining.

So here’s the thing I have learned about cleaning gutters in the rain, I actually like it. The reason for this is simple; gutter sludge stinks. When you dip your hands into it, it soaks into your skin and then your hands reek for days afterward. When it rains, however, the rainwater washes the gutter sludge away. I only need to pull out the gunk from the downspouts and the water rushes through the gutters and washes them clean.

I think maybe pain is God’s method of showing me the gunk in my gutters. So often I’m too tired or lazy or whatever to climb onto the roof and unplug the downspouts. When that is the case, the water pours down the roof, over the gutters, and into my basement where it causes a big stinking mess. But when I use God’s word to cleanse my heart—even when pain is at its most wretched—I experience the rain as a mechanism of cleansing. Make no mistake—it’s going to rain. And honestly, there is no magic umbrella that will keep us from being affected by it. However, if we are wise, we turn to the maker of the rain and let him use it refine and purify us.

Still, it behooves me to say that waiting for the rain to clean the gutters is not a good approach to life. That is why I really do try to read God’s word daily. I began to memorize Psalm 19 when the sun was shining as a means to praise him. And when it began to rain, Psalm 19 was an excellent reminder that even though the clouds had come, his promises were still true. Pain, like rain, will come. But as I always say, it’s how we respond to adversity that really matters.

On May 20, 2016   /   The Journey   /   1 Comment