Gratitude Monday: the insight of rain

A rather nice change from the bone-rattling cold we’ve been experiencing here in the District They Call Columbia—we’ve had several days of rain. Rain means the temperature is above freezing; I like above freezing. It’s especially nice because it hasn’t hit at a time when I had to remember to carry an umbrella with me to work. (In all the years I’ve lived outside of California, I’ve still never got into the habit of walking out of the house armed with rain gear.)

Yesterday morning, I was listening to a piece by Pleyel on WETA, when I looked up and saw something rather more than “rain”, however. More like “downpour”. Viz.:

At one point you can hear some of the nature drowning out Pleyel.

As I watched it chucking it down I was struck by a sense of gratitude that I was safely inside my own home, dry and with the thermostat set to 73°, on a day off work where all I had to do was tidy up a week’s worth of paper accumulation and plan for the workweek ahead. Laundry done, dishwasher running, food in the fridge, a job for the moment and bills paid. And from that place of security I could watch the deluge with the kind of fascination that only a native Californian can feel.

I am not comparatively grateful for this, only grateful in comparing the blessings I enjoy against those who are homeless, hungry, jobless, struggling. I do not say, “Well, at least I’m not…” Because that’s not real gratitude to my mind, only considering your condition of comfort in relationship to others less well off. That’s a form of schadenfreude, and I see way too much of it in the world around me.

No, I am just grateful that my little place of security allows me to take pleasure in things like my birds at the feeders and the wonder of a rainstorm.