Walking Between the Drops

The ability to walk between rain drops was a mystery explained to me in the 5th grade. Only angels can walk between the drops.

Between the church and elementary school I attended, there was a parking lot. On Tuesday and Friday mornings, all of the school children attended mass. On rainy days we would dash across that parking lot from school to church and back again.

From underneath the overhang of the rectory, Msgr. Huels used to taunt us with, “Only angels can walk between the drops.”

I never understood the meaning behind this jeer, but I knew I really wanted to be able to walk between those rain drops. I was secretly scared of Monsignor. His gravely voice and demeanor intimidated me.

In the spring of my 5th grade year, one of my classmates (who was not afraid) returned Monsignor’s taunt with, “Nobody can walk between the drops!”

I didn’t want to get wet, but I was also too scared to move away from the scene.

The growlly voice of the old priest snapped, “Those rain drops tell me who the little devils are.” Continue reading “Walking Between the Drops” →