Crying Wolf and Letting Go

I went for a walk in the drizzle today. Actually, it started as a walk in the mist, but ended as a walk in the drizzle. Both were very pleasant. Having grown up in a semi-arid climate, I still get a thrill when it rains a lot. And it has rained a lot this week, as if someone has been turning a giant spigot in the sky on and off at random intervals.

Weather in general was a prominent topic, what with hurricane Joaquin roaring in the Atlantic. The hurricane buzz was a new experience for me. I’ve heard the siren testing before, but this is the first time I’ve received warnings of potential landfall.

I wasn’t sure how seriously to take all the noise. When it snows, there is an endearing sort of panic in this town that befuddles me (the Utah part of me has a hard time worrying about a few inches of snow) and I wondered if the hurricane reaction was along similar lines. I know hurricanes are materially different from snowstorms, but I still felt a little like the villagers who heard the shepherd boy cry wolf too many times.

Happily, Joaquin has turned out to sea (following the European prediction rather than the five or six American predictions that showed it crashing into the US coast) and left us to heavy rains and coastal flooding, which is quite enough without the addition of severe wind damage.

Anyway, back to my walk in the mist and drizzle. One purpose of my walk was to feed the ducks, but I didn’t succeed at that. I might have offended them; shortly after I offered them a snack, they quacked at me (as if commenting on my impertinence) and stalked off in a line with their bills in the air. Maybe I should have brought them something better than stale Cheerios. (I’ve also learned this year that our ducks don’t like corn chips. Perhaps they’re a strictly bread-and-crackers bunch.)

The other purposes of going for a walk were to get outside, to enjoy the weather, to move around a bit, and, most importantly, to think. I do my best thinking when my mind and my feet are both free to wander. I was thinking about the lesson I’ve been learning this year.

Each year here at school has had a sort of theme, one major idea marking a change in my perspective, feelings, and understanding. During my first year, it was a lesson on humility and doing things that are a different kind of hard. Last year, it was about the beauty of grace.

So far this year, the lesson is about letting go. Elder Bednar partially summed up the idea when he quoted Elder Hales in the Sunday afternoon session of General Conference: “When you cannot do what you have always done, you only do what matters most.” Letting go has also been about relinquishing my own expectations and wants – some that are small, and some that seem large now but will probably look very small when tempered by adequate hindsight.

You might say I’m still learning both lessons: how much to worry about a hurricane warning and how to let go. Of course, it’s still early in the year, so I have time.