raining on the inside

The days have been woefully gloomy lately. I don’t recall feeling the warm rays of the sun on my skin anytime this week. Tonight, after a quick trip to the nearby mall, I got home all drenched with the sudden downpour. The tricycle got me home but did little to keep me dry while I was inside it. But I had no hard feelings for the driver. He himself was struggling to keep his eyes open, what with the strong wind slapping the rain on his face. I almost asked him to stop for a while and park somewhere before continuing on our way.

There’s something powerful about the rain. The way it refuses to be stilled when it decides to strike the earth; the way it locks arms with the wind and announces its presence.

I can hear no more trickling on the roof; the smell of damp earth serving as the only reminder that the angry sky just unleashed its fury. But I can still feel the rain. . . on the inside. This time, not even the biggest umbrella could keep me from being soaked.

Just when I am starting to overcome a pain or a loss, God allows another crisis to come and disturb my peace. And somehow, the magnitude of the trial escalates: A lost phone one day; the threat of losing a loved one the next. By instinct, I’ve known what to do. I could tap the play button in the recording of my mind and listen to myself say these lines over and over again: “God loves me. I don’t have to worry. He will see me through this pain."

Sounds positive, I know, yet God knows when I’m just mouthing the words, like a mantra, and when I sincerely believe it. And so, some days I feel a bit braver, more honest, and not move a finger to tap the play button and instead say (from the top of my head and the bottom of my heart): “Lord, I don’t understand this at all. Isn’t it in Your power to help me get through my difficulties? I’ve been good, no, make that extra benevolent. But then why am I still in this rut? Lord, please show me how all this makes sense. O God, are You even listening to this cry?”

The sky must have peeked over my shoulder and glanced at this post. Decided that this writing needed an accompaniment. What else would be appropriate than the distinct sound of rain? Yes, after a momentary pause, it rains again—on the outside; now in synch with the falling of the rain inside my heart. And so I listen. And hope that maybe if I listen carefully enough, I could hear a faint melody that will make me believe there’ll be sunshines ahead.