Rain on Me

Yesterday it rained so hard a part of me was worried that it wouldn’t end—at least for the next four hours or so. I was scheduled to go to Valenzuela that afternoon and I was thinking if I’d have to swim on my way back home to Paranaque. I shoot a quick prayer—more like a quiet wish, really—and ask God to please make the rain stop (Quite audacious for me to ask when I don’t feel I’m particularly “good” lately. But then again, isn’t that the essence of grace? Getting what we do not deserve?). The Lord graciously hears my plea and turns off the heavenly sprinkler system switch. I arrived at my destination safe, sound—and dry.

But in ordinary days, that is, days when I don’t have self-serving motives, I welcome these tiny drops from heaven. The sound of rain—falling drops on the tin roof, like the rhythmic pounding of drums—echoes feelings of peace. And contentment. As if every drop whispers to me, “Life is good.” Most of the time I agree and mutter, “Yes, it is.” And add, “Thanks to God.”

Yet I have this one disappointment. Of all the many rainy days that have come and gone lately, not once have I seen a rainbow slash across the sky. While typing these lines, I am trying to recall when was the last time an arc of color swept past my eyes. Too long ago, I’m afraid. It must be the location, I surmise. For how could I see a rainbow with my view obstructed by the buildings and billboards of the city?

This disappointment, fortunately, is canceled out by one realization. That is, though rainbows shyly hide from me, God reminds me why I need not see one for me to believe it’s there. It is there. Likewise, He affirms to me that hope—what a rainbow represents to me—is always within my reach, though not always within my sight. For isn’t that what a rainbow is made to do—to serve as a sign of God’s promise of love, mercy and kindness?

Life is good. Thanks to God. Let the rains come.