Short Loud Prayers

I think I may have just experienced my first real rain here: walls of water, drops the size of Hershey's Kisses, 3 hours strong and counting.

When it started, I was over at my prayer partner's house for the evening, waiting for her to arrive. She had invited me to come at 6, but I'm learning about Kenyan time, so I didn't even leave my house until 6:03. I drove my new-to-me little red station wagon, affectionately called the Ladybug for its black spots of rust on its bright red exterior. I've only had it for about a week, and the freedom of owning a car is intoxicating. So I'm still in that adolescent stage of "I'll drive! Sure! No problem!"

When I arrived at 6:20, I saw that her vehicle wasn't in the carport, but her family let me in and I ducked into a side room to wait. And wait. At 6:30 it starts to rain. At 7 she calls and says she's about to leave her office. At 8 she arrives, we pray, and we sit and talk over dinner. I ask her if the rainy season has started; she tells me it has. I say I kind of like the rain, and she looks at me like I'm crazy. But at this point my only experience with the rain has been the lullaby of water falling on big tropical leaves as I drift off to sleep. Well, my perspective was about to change.

When I go to leave at 9:30, she sees how hard it is raining and advises me to wait a bit. A half hour later, I'm nearly falling asleep in my chair, and I decide I need to get home before I become an unsafe driver. So she pulls out an umbrella, walks me to the car, we both get a little wet, she makes sure the Ladybug starts, and I pull out of the driveway.

As soon as I'm on the road, I see that there are several issues. Yes, I've got the windshield wipers on. But the headlights aren't particularly bright. And I've never turned on the heat or defrost in this car, and the windows are fogging up in a hurry. I jiggle some switches and knobs. The rain is really coming down, and by the time I turn on the main road, I'm laughing to myself about what a crazy adventure it is to drive in such serious rain. I'm from New Mexico; I've never seen the sky give up this much water.

In fact, there's so much water that it's kind of covering the road. And now I can't see the speed bumps. And now I can't quite see where the road is. And now I'm no longer laughing. I'm praying. Loudly.

My family has always been amused by my prayer habits. When I was 5, my parents took us on a scary Snow White ride at Disneyworld that had a witch that looked like it was going to roll a boulder onto us. And I knew that Jesus has power over that sort of stuff, so I started to pray "HelpmeJesusHelpmeJesusHelpmeJesus!" And he must have; we got out of the ride and the witch didn't get us. :) A few years later, when my dad taught me to ski on the not-so-beginner-friendly Pajarito Mountain, I pointed my skis downhill, didn't yet know how to turn, and instead prayed (screamed), "Dear Jesus please help those people to MOVE! Dear Jesus please help those people to MOVE!" Again, I saw that prayer is effective. Those people moved. Probably they were mostly getting away from the short shrieking ball of magenta ski clothes, but God could have used that in answering my prayer...

So tonight, when the water covered the road and I felt, for the first time, the dent it puts in your acceleration when your ENTIRE BUMPER is underwater, I fell back to my default prayers: simple and repetitive. Lord God, please take me through. Lord God, please take me through. Lord God, please take me through. Don't let me get stuck on something in the middle of this river. Don't let my engine die. Don't let me get washed away. Lord God, please take me through. Lord God, please take me through.

And in that repetition, I realized I was also praying about this season of my life. Lord God, please take me through. Don't let me feel like this forever. Don't let my willingness to serve You die. Don't let me get washed away in relational limbo. Lord God, please take me through.

Sure enough, I emerged from Runda onto Limuru road, down the alley to Rosslyn, and eventually through the gate and to my parking spot. And my prayer changed: Lord God, You took me through! Lord God, you took me through! Sure enough, the Ladybug had pushed through the flood and was standing, safe and sopping, on familiar ground.

I too have been protected despite the precipitation. I am indeed through.

And it has stopped raining.