Showers of Blessing – A True Story

Prologue:  With over 200 days of sunshine, Phin originally moved to Boise to escape what he and others term, “the dreariness of Western Washington.”  I joined him a few years later and experienced desert-like conditions that made me parched in more ways than one.  Together we began a quest for a vibrant place to grow our emotional health, creativity, and most of all our spiritual life.  A few months ago we realized this place existed in community irrespective of location.  However, a move to a sunny coastal city had already been set in motion, and we prepared to leave our new-found, though life-long, friends.

 

As we began packing, the need to simplify our lives became clear.  It felt like an invitation to support our Boise friends was being extended, and while we were eager to accept, we wanted others to have the opportunity as well.  Thus for the last few weeks, we have been encouraged by people’s generosity as carloads of items have been collecting in our porch for the community garage sale.

The Story:  Monday forecasted a 30% chance of rain for our Saturday Garage Sale, and I was not concerned.  The group was praying for sunshine and it wouldn’t even need to be a large miracle for God to make it a sunny day.  By Friday, there was 100% chance of rain.  Text messages were flying back and forth – should we postpone? (Not really an option since the word had already gone out and our moving day was less than a week away)  Have it inside our house instead of the centrally located church parking lot? (This had some appeal – but would take a lot of last minute organization and there were concerns that no-one would show.) 

Believing God was in control and knew about our timing constraints, we decided to hold the garage sale as planned.  Tents and tarps were gathered by resourceful members, although deep down I expected a beautiful day that was sure to shock and stun.  Early Saturday morning, I was awoken to the steady drumming of raindrops.  Not to worry – the rain was getting it out of its system before the 10:00 sale.  Doubts did creep in when I looked out the window and saw the extent of the “system”.  There was not a cloud break in sight – just a dome with shades of gray and black that forecasted a gloomy, dismal day.   My next conversation with God went something like this:

               “I thought for sure You would answer my prayer for a beautiful day so this sale would be a blessing”

               “I am giving you a beautiful day!”  

This cut the dialogue short and made me laugh as I thought back to our previous conversations and wondered why the specific word, “sunny” had never come up.  Arriving at the church, I was greeted by a tent city and eager customers.  The next few hours are a blur as we negotiated prices, patched leaks, dried merchandise, and continually re-organized around streams that kept springing.  As the hubbub continued, I stopped to observe the vignettes around me.  It was poetry in motion, and I was amazed and humbled by the group’s talents, thoughtfulness, and generosity.  I watched decorating savants, organizational geniuses, heavy lifters, and tarp patrollers all serving each other and those around them with unabashed elation, despite the wild conditions. 

The rain continued into the afternoon picking up ferocity.  After rescuing yet another table from a new water surge, one of us cheerfully announced, “It can’t rain like this forever.”  Within seconds the rain replied with a much stronger torrential downpour.  At this point all our efforts were on rescue, and yet items continued to sell.  In spite of the crazy storm, cozy moments occurred beneath the struggling tarps.  A quiet man was delighted with his find; a book of paintings inspired by Galatians 5.  Fifteen years ago, this passage spoke to him while in prison and led to a joyful, spirit-filled life.  He reminded me how well we can see God at work when there is a storm raging on the outside.  His was metaphorical while ours was physical, but the results were the same.  God was at work, and this could be seen because of, not despite, the adverse conditions.

I laid in bed, tired to my bones, and thought back to the events of the day and those leading up to it.  It was like flipping through Polaroid photos.  Distinct moments had been captured in my memory and a pattern emerged.  We couldn’t account for our high sales based on the weather, our great advertising, or our musical entertainment.  We had been part of something extraordinary.  I fell asleep thinking, “God – what a beautiful day!”

The One that Got Away

The drinks were frothy and delicious, and I was enjoying mine while sitting on a small tuffet next to a Moroccan Coffee Table.  Focused on the glamorous arrivals, I could tell we were with the popular crowd because they were all wearing bracelets that glittered and jiggled.  Even more telling, laughs were sparkling more than drinks, which they somehow sipped without leaving red lipstick on the glass. 

So this is life in my new state, I thought to myself, and felt a twinge of loneliness in the crowd.  Before I could fully concentrate on how much of an outsider I was, I saw her.  She was beautiful like the others, but with a face I knew and hoped to see again someday.  In middle school my best friend moved away to reluctantly embrace life as a California Girl, and I had not seen her again until this moment.

She was truly a long lost friend.  Moving away before the ease of email (much less Facebook) could keep us in contact, we had exchanged several letters.  But the years of our friendship became distant, bonds frayed, and our connection finally severed.  Every once in a while I would remember how my childhood is linked to hers and would try random searches.  No contact information was forthcoming, and with a sigh I accepted that she was just part of my past.    

She sat down on an adjacent tuffet and started talking like we had seen each other last week.  For some reason it was hard for her to understand how amazed I was at this unexpected reunion, and so I tried to be casual and kept my exclamations in check.  We had so much catching up to do, but in mere minutes, the doorman came and announced that her limo had arrived.  As she stood to go, I cried, “Wait! Let me at least get your phone number.”  I searched in my pocket for paper and writing utensils but could only scavenge up a goldfish cracker – an escapee from an earlier snack.  “Here, scratch it out on this,” I said, and handed her the lone fish.  Her exquisite nails were perfect for carving in tiny numbers and she laughed as she handed me the tiny cracker tablet.

I watched her exit, surrounded by vivacious friends, obviously living a golden life in the Golden State.  She gracefully got into the limo and gave me a little wave before closing the door.  As the car drove away, I looked down at the note in my hand.  Before I had a chance to decipher the numbers, the little fish crumbled into a million bits.  The limo disappeared around the corner, and all I had of our future friendship was a handful of crumbs.    

Eyes are Everywhere!!

I was walking down the street the other day and had the feeling I was being watched.  Looking around, there was no-one in sight, and I continued on my way.  Apparently I was not alone, and the way I was avoiding cracks in the sidewalk in a hopscotch-like manner was more than a little shocking for one very sheltered bystander.  (At least I hope it was the way I was hopscotching and not one of my oblivious oddities that made the googly eyes pop out in such astonishment.)