One summer our church was having a summer "tent meeting" during a time of severe drought, probably in 1954; most folks would call it a revival, but my church never used that word: we had "Gospel meetings". This meeting wasn't really in a tent, though. There was simply a wall of canvas surrounding the folding chairs and pulpit, with no roof overhead. The preacher was delivering his message when distant thunder grew closer and raindrops started falling on our heads. We were dismissed, and by the time my parents and I drove the few blocks to our home, it was pouring. I will never forget seeing my mom sitting at the switchboard in the living room, singing "Showers of Blessing" as the downpour continued. I don't know as I ever saw her any happier; after all, we depended on our garden to supply a large share of our groceries. The garden was saved.
As my regular readers know, we recently bought a hot tub. I've found the hot tub feels best when it's chilly outside. It's also very pleasant to feel a fine mist of mild sprinkles on one's face, if it's barely raining.
What I discovered this morning is this: In a downpour, the hot tub is not fun at all. Rain was streaming down my face so hard, I had to close my eyes, and I retreated back into the house after about five minutes.
Because we've been dry lately, I'm happy, even excited, to have the rain. So I went to check the rain gauge, which is located some distance away, while rain was still coming down. Umbrella in one hand, flashlight in the other, barefoot as usual, I made my way outside.
An inch had already fallen, and it was still raining! In my excitement, I forgot to watch where I was stepping, and ended up in our freshly-plowed garden plot, sinking about half-way to my knees. Not the best way to start a day, but hey... we're getting rain!
And I love rain.
This is a picture of a tent meeting my mom attended as a young girl (she wrote "me" with an arrow to herself). All the older girls and women wore hats to church back then. Don't you love old pictures?
