I'd Like to See the Rain

I wanted to wait to write this until I had more of a silver lining. But that doesn’t seem to be coming anytime soon—and maybe that’s not the point. I’ve always loved adopting a positive perspective, but sometimes life demands something else: patience.

There’s a song that’s been following me for years—"Have You Ever Seen The Rain" by Creedence Clearwater Revival. It’s one of those tracks that feels less like music and more like a message. 

“There’s a calm before the storm,” it warns. “It’s been coming for some time.”

This past week has been a series of storms testing what I’m capable of enduring. And while I never wanted to discover certain kinds of strength, I’ve learned that I can survive more than I imagined.

A Friend in the ICU

Last Friday morning, the first storm hit. My dad came into my room to tell me my childhood friend since preschool had suffered a heart attack and slipped into a coma. I couldn’t process it, but I didn’t need to. I just needed to act.

At the hospital, I noticed something striking: the ICU was surrounded by small but powerful messages. Painted rocks outside read “calm,” “faith,” and “love.” The stairs were lined with words like “peace” and “hope.” Even in the storm, there’s always a moment of calm.

Holding my friend’s hand, I asked for a sign. Right outside her room, a poster board read “Just in Time.”  Days later, she miraculously woke up, uttering the small but powerful words “Hi,” “Thank you,” and “I love you.” That’s my girl.

I didn’t want to know I was capable of walking into the ICU, but I learned I am. And I learned that when we align with hope, faith, and love, the world reflects those things back—even in the darkest moments.

Facing Another Diagnosis

Just as I caught my breath, another storm rolled in. For years, I’ve dealt with neck pain, dismissing it as part of being a dancer with a high pain tolerance. But when my family suggested physical therapy, I didn’t expect to hear the words, “This is the worst case I’ve ever seen”  from the doctor. 

The diagnosis—cervical kyphosis coupled with hypertanicity of the trapezius—felt like a punch to the gut. It reopened old wounds from my brain surgery days, and I hated that I was capable of hearing such news again. Another verse of the same song.

But this time, I remembered who I am.

I’m someone who believes in perspective. The kind of perspective I didn’t yet have during my last health scare. I chose to see this as an opportunity—a chance to use the trust, love, and mindset I’ve built since that traumatic chapter. A second opinion from a compassionate doctor and an MRI confirmed I just needed physical therapy. No surgeries, no drastic changes—just healing and growth.

The Fires

The final storm of the week (hopefully) came on Tuesday when we lost power and were placed under an evacuation warning that has yet to lift. In these few days, Los Angeles—the city of angels—has found itself in desperate need of every angel there is.

The flames have devoured not just landscapes, but memories—places tied to who I am, to the moments that shaped my childhood. Watching these hills and streets disappear feels like losing pieces of myself.

And yet, amidst the devastation, “Have You Ever Seen The Rain”  keeps echoing in my mind. This time, its message feels less like a question and more like a prayer.

Rain isn’t just water; it’s a promise. A promise that the flames will end, the earth will cool, and life will begin to grow again. Right now, I find myself longing for that rain—the kind that cleanses, calms, and extinguishes.

But even without it, I’ve witnessed something extraordinary: resilience. Neighbors checking on one another. Strangers offering shelter, food, or even just a kind word. People rescuing animals at great risk to themselves. It’s a reminder that while fire can destroy the tangible, it cannot destroy the essence of who we are—the love, care, and hope that connect us.

When the rain finally falls, we’ll welcome it with open hearts. Together, we’ll watch the ashes give way to green, and the scars of the land transform into stories of resilience.

Lessons from the Storms

This week reminded me of a quote: “The world doesn’t give you what you want; it gives you who you are.”

I don’t think this means we’re responsible for all the destruction we face. But I do think it means we have the power to bring love and light to dark times.

These storms have been a harsh teacher, revealing strengths I didn’t want to discover but am grateful to own. I’ve learned I am capable of holding my friend’s hand in the ICU, of facing frightening diagnoses, and of finding grace amidst natural disasters.

And through it all, I am capable of aligning with hope, faith, and perspective. Because maybe the point isn’t to wait for the silver lining—it’s to become it.

Yes, I’d like to see the rain.

My heart goes out to everyone affected by the fires in LA, especially to those who have lost their homes. I’m beyond grateful for the bravery and dedication of firefighters, first responders, and citizens coming together in these challenging times. Sending love and strength to all <3