Rainy Season, Rainy Season

I woke up to the sound of rain hitting the tin roof, so I smiled, turned off my alarm, rolled over, and went back to sleep. 

Whatever plans that I had for the day were off. Here in Burkina, you never have to ask if things are canceled because of the rain. They always are. Rain puts a halt on normal life. In the States, people can always find a way around the rain - cars, umbrellas, rain boots, back up plans - but those aren't a thing here. When it rains, stores close, work stops, and the streets flood with water but are completely void of people. You can't go anywhere, you can't do anything; you are confined to the house to rest until the rain stops. It's a forced pause, and a very welcomed one. 

And it's funny, no one complains about the rain. They all love it. 

One rainy morning, I was sitting outside on a covered porch at a guesthouse, watching the droplets make artistic patterns as they hit the pavement. All my plans for the day were on standby, so I grabbed my Bible and a cup of hot tea, and I spent hours there. I thought about Martha busy in the kitchen and Mary sitting at Jesus' feet and how Jesus said Mary had chosen the better thing. At that same moment, a little blond-headed girl about four years old came bouncing down the stairs in the rain, singing "rainy season, rainy season" in a high, sweet voice as if it were Christmas Day and she was coming down to get her long-awaited presents. Her joy and delight made me smile, and I found my heart singing the same song. That little girl and Mary would get along, and I want to be like them. 

The next rainy morning, I was back in my little town, and instead of falling back asleep, the rain called me up and out of bed. It beckoned me to the front porch, where the cool breeze brought temperature in the 60s and the rain on the tin roof drowned out my worship music. I could sing and not be heard, or rather, I felt like my voice blended in with the worship that the rain drops were singing. I stayed there for a long time, and the Lord used that rainy sabbath to get my attention and speak to me about things heavy on my heart, things that I had been "pushing through" while staying busy when really I needed to stop and listen. 

We do that, you know. When we get stressed or burdened or grieve, we think that staying busy and pushing through will help us cope. What we really need are rainy days. 

When the rain comes, don't look for a way around it to keep your busy schedule. Let it stop you, let it slow you down, let it rest you. Enjoy a rainy sabbath, sing with the raindrops, and listen.