Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: DRIZZLE (03/05/20)
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TITLE: Misty Models | Previous Challenge Entry
By Rachel Rudd
03/11/20 -
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Enough rambling. The puddle. Yes, it caught my foot and the red lights of the bus condescended to reflect in the water as I lifted my foot. It seemed to say, “take a walk.”
A walk? A minute in that weather would melt any wicked witch, but there was an hour before a hair dryer could be my new best friend.
I tried to sing all the rain songs I could think of, but asking God to let it rain seemed pointless in the middle of living dew. Maybe I could have asked for the grace of Elijah-seven years of drought seemed a luxury.
I paused under a hospitable tree when it started talking to me. Or rather, the little girl who had climbed it, bellowed out the words, “Hey-sus, hey-sus, I’m coming to your house today.”
“Excuse me? Are you talking to me?”
“No, hust singin’. I’m not s’posed to talk to strwangers.”
I focused on the dark curls and the mischievous eyes hiding in the leaves. It was one of my Sunday school students. “Sarah, you know me!”
“Hehe, I know. That’s why I was singin’ to you.”
“Are you playing Zachaeus out in this rain?”
“Uh-huh. Mommy said that if I din’t go outside SHE would climb walls. Can she do that?”
“Well, maybe not, but how about coming to my house tomorrow? We could sing all of your favorite songs.”
“Okay. I’ll ask Mommy.” The monkey climbed down the tree and rushed through the back door.
“Bye, Sarah!” That girl had more energy than a windmill in a hurricane. I sure would love to harvest it. Singing motivated me though. God’s spirit showering down was ALWAYS preferable to the constant drops from my umbrella.
“Help me, I can’t see!” The voice came from a yard covered with mud. It looked like the owners were in the middle of landscaping a swamp.
“Help me! Help me!” A walking clump of muck pursued me as I walked past.
I recognized the voice underneath the layers of dirt. “Christian, why don’t you go wash in that little basin over there?”
“Mommy said not to touch it.”
“She won’t mind if she knows you got it in your eyes. Were you making mud pies?”
“Yes, but they didn’t taste good.” I noticed the dirty teeth as he talked. Gourmet cooks might think dirt was the newest trend, but they had nothing on this little guy. “Go wash, sweetie.”
He splashed enough water to clean an elephant. “I can see!”
“Now, can you tell your Mommy what happened?”
“Umm, but will I get trouble?”
“I hope not. Mud pies should be something every kid gets to make. Even Jesus used mud when he healed someone.”
“I ‘member that. Did he eat it, too?”
I grinned. “Probably not. You shouldn’t either.”
“Okay. See ya’ later big minnow!”
“After a while, mud hippo.”
Halfway there. Halfway to dry clothes and a warm cup of tea. Songs were preferable to the squishing of my socks. There was more than one cloud on the horizon, so I definitely could receive LOTS of God’s rain.
Five minutes later I heard a crowd on a playground. Ten voices yelled out in unison, “Hey lady, can you do us a favor?” I recognized all the voices except one. Maybe she just moved here?
“What do you need help with?”
“Our ball’s in that gutter...we’re not allowed to get it.”
“Okay, I don’t think I could get much wetter anyway.” I grabbed the ball with my free hand and tossed it over the fence. They all scrambled after it, eager to continue the game.
Except for one. “Gracias, señorita.” A girl with straight black hair and a shy smile peered at me.
“You’re welcome. De nada.” That smile told me that it was not nothing to her. Great, the drizzle was starting to affect my grammar.
But at least it forced me to notice real life lessons. Like the faith of kids is worth imitating. Like God’s rain IS restorative. Like real rain shouldn’t stop my joy even if puddles can stop my feet.
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