As I left the house, I paused, wondering ever so briefly if I should bring an umbrella. But one glance at the blue skies chased away the cautious thought. I had a good half-hour ride on the bus to the church I wanted to go to this evening, and not five minutes into the ride, I looked out the window to a blackening sky. Menancingly dark. And I began to pray...
"God, it's not that I don't like rain. I just don't like it on me, when I'm wearing three inch heels and a white shirt and am without an umbrella. Can you make it not rain, or at least, only rain when I'm inside buildings and buses?"
As we flew by (the roads are somewhat deserted on Sundays), I kept seeing unattended umbrellas everywhere: the back of a car, tucked in a plastic purse. And I was very envious of those umbrellas. Which showed a clear lack of faith.
As it was, there was a slight drizzle as I stepped off the bus. The wind was strong and the lighting flashes and immense crashes of thunder were an indication of what was to come...but the storm held back just enough. Until I got to the right street. Had I not stopped to ask directions, I would have been inside before the skies opened. Instead, I had to run a bit, about 100 feet, which was nothing, considering the bus stop was a good four blocks from the church.
When the skies opened, they opened. I'd never been in such a glorious storm before. Not only was the thunder deafening, it rained so hard and with such force that it was raining inside the church, because the slanted windows and the big doors were open. The wind blew and blew--it was like horizontal rain in Upland all over again. It got so bad, we actually closed the church doors for a time, until the worst of the storm was over...
And just like I prayed, there was no rain when I walked to the bus stop after the service. Isn't God nice to his vain, forgetful creatures?
1 comment:
i think i saw in the news that the world's biggest jesus statue in rio was struck by lightening. i wonder if it was this storm??
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