The Way the Zambian Rain Moves

It was on the fount porch of my guest house Feburary 7th that I found God in the Zambian rain. You see the Zambian rain is not the dreary kind, it has this beauty to it. The way the drops are bigger than they appear, and when they hit the ground they create a spalsh that ripples through the maze of oversized puddles hiding in the cracks in our concrete yard.  And the sky doesn’t get dark, its instead this grey blue color where there is this odd sense of light still shining through the clouds. All of it together almost calls you to dance in it no matter how soaked your black t-shirt and crazy patterned pants will get. And that call to you makes you wonder why people hardly walk the streets in the Zambian rain because everyone it touches seems to understand the feeling that is shivering through you, head to toe. A seven year old carrying an large black umbrella while trying to reign in his four year old brother who is trying to turn his white shorts brown in the street puddles calling to him. A little girl carrying a baby whoses big brown eyes stare up at her from under a blue ponco and a little boy with a oversized raincoat running behind her with the extra sleeve length doing their own rain dance in every direction. The one girl who is still going to school in her black and yellow uniform staring at you through the red rusted gate until you wave to her and then she runs off hopping puddles laughing. Maybe everyone stays inside away from the rain because no matter how calm it gets it still whispers, “Power”. Power to move and reshape the dirt roads in front of our house. Power to turn into the fierce rain at any second, the kind that brings the lightning that lights up the whole sky and replys with thunder you can feel in your bones. Power that the trees, the dirt, and all of nature is not afraid because it is the power that brings pain, remaking and reshaping, but with the pain brings growth. And there and then I realize…

I need God’s Zambian rain.