An Unexpected Downpour

I should have paid better attention to the cool breeze and gathering gray clouds on my recent walk through our backyard forest. Miles and I were about a mile from our house, in an older neighborhood on the other side of the woods, when the bottom fell out of the sky. We were suddenly caught in a late summer rainstorm, complete with lightning bolts and booming thunder. 

A tall oak tree at the end of a driveway looked like a place where we could stay dry. We dashed through the rain to stand under the tree’s protective canopy. After a few minutes, however, the raindrops started winning, as Miles and I were getting regularly plunked on the head. 

I looked up the driveway and noticed an old garage without a door. The house’s yard was full of overgrown grass and shrubs.  Making an assumption that the occupants weren’t home – or at least might not notice two sopping-wet critters on their private property – I tugged Miles’s leash, and we ran for cover. 

I stood at the garage’s entrance with Miles. While he watched the rain, I took a closer look at our little sanctuary. The garage appeared to be as abandoned as the house’s yard. It was lopsided and full of spider webs – but, thankfully, dry. Scattered about were various artifacts, providing evidence of a life once lived. They included some old brown leather work gloves. A pair of black work shoes, cracked and caked with mud. A stack of yellowed newspapers. A gritty lawnmower that smelled of gasoline. Empty terra cotta flower pots piled in the corner. Dusty and rusty yard tools hanging on the walls. 

I started wondering about the little house and its inhabitant. From our spot under the garage roof, I could see overgrown garden beds and shaggy hydrangea bushes. Someone here had been a gardener once. What happened? Did they still live here? Why were their beds and yard in such a neglected state? 

I found myself thinking about unexpected downpours in life in general – the sudden death of a loved one, the unanticipated job loss, the heartbreak of a marriage that’s ended, the shocking revelation that a life that looked fine on the surface was not-so-fine underneath. I have experienced those kinds of unexpected downpours, just as I imagine many others have. 

And, while taking some sort of action has often been the right next step for me, sometimes the best solution has also been to simply wait . . . to wait out the storm from the shelter of a dry and safe place. And, when the storm has subsided, I can get moving again . . . likely with caution, but perhaps also with hope and a little wisdom. 

Which is what Miles and I eventually did when our summer downpour turned into a shower, which turned into a sprinkle. The sun didn’t come out and there weren’t any rainbows. But we were dry and relieved. And ready to find our way back home. 

Warmly,

Rev Terry