Bring the Rain

Thanks be to God, the constant heat and sweltering humidity have lessened in the past few days because of the onset of the rainy season, which lasts here from late May through August. I know that humidity increases with such a perpetually moist environment, but the constant overcast has decreased the temperature significantly and it has made my un-air conditioned room, I daresay, ‘pleasant.’ I know that this will likely be the onset of the great mosquito invasion, but I will take my chances with them over dealing with the unforgiving heat/humidity combo.

There is no plain named ‘Kapiti’ anywhere around here, but this sudden onset of wetness has reminded me of one of my favorite books from childhood, introduced to me via Lavar Burton of Reading Rainbow fame. The book, entitled “Bringing the Rain to Kapiti Plain,” told the story of an African ecosystem ravaged by drought. The climax of the story occurs when the rain finally arrives, bringing with it respite from the heat and new life through its waters. My parents would always read it out loud in their best James Earl Jones voice—that slow, deep

, inherently African way of dramatic storytelling.

Reflecting on that admittingly awesome children’s story led me to think about my parents, in particular my mother, and the courage it takes to let your children go off into the great unknown. Leaving me at the University of Florida was traumatizing enough for her, and I sincerely doubt that she will get a quality night’s sleep until both of her boys have returned from Africa. I know that, as a son, I don’t always take into consideration what these adventures do to my parents…but I’m learning how deep that reservoir we call ‘love’ can reach as I seem to stretch them more and more in their own trust in God’s steadfastness. Love demands that I desire the best for the other person in my life (according to Aquinas, to “wish the other well”), even if the ‘best’ in the particular situation requires that we let them go. Holding on to what is familiar and safe can stifle the growth we can only accomplish through struggle…I hope that I can keep this truth close to heart when the temperature reaches 95+ again with 97.7 % humidity!

The rain is pouring down now as I write this; it seems to be suggesting a new beginning for myself here. I have officially been in Africa now for one whole week…and I’m still here. I went through an unforeseen but serious homesickness hump, perhaps caused by the total removal of all the comforts, trappings, and ready communication that I had grown used to in the States. I knew what I was walking into, but I think somewhere in the back of my head I thought I would at least have a quiet, freezing room with Wi-Fi to retreat to. Africa seems like quite the romanticized mission trip, but it is tough. I can say, “Jesus, I trust in You” over and over again, but here I really had to show Him I meant it. I’m sure Bishop Lynch sensed the growth potential before tossing me in here.

Through the relationships I am building with the people here, and especially with Fr. Francis taking me under his wing, I am witnessing the ever-present love of God and His desire, not necessarily for our comfort, but for our greatness.

-Bob
written 05/30/11