The rains have fallen this week. After two years of drought, Kenya welcomed the rains that began on October 15. Listening to the driver describe the welcome of the rains and singing the following chorus at the plenary session last night has reminded me of the soil of my own life.
Hallelujah Hallelujah
Grace fall down like rain
Hallelujah Hallelujah
All my stains are washed away
My soul feels like the newly turned soil along the roads, in vast fields and the tiniest of family plots. The soil has been nurtured and cultivated in previous years. Fruits have even grown to full ripeness to be plucked and enjoyed. But in this season of my life the soil is dry again, anxiously awaiting the rain. Not a drought, but a natural longing for the rain. Not a desperate cry or a despairing need, but an expectation of green shoots and new life.
In previous years the seasons were simply pages on a calendar, totally disconnected from the land and the rain. But now, as I buy my vegetables in the market, eat papaya freshly picked, and anticipate ripe mangoes, the seasons are more than changing holiday displays in the stores. The seasons are marked differences in scarcity and abundance for the people I love.
And the physical changes that touch my life so much more directly in Africa shape my soul as well. We arrived in Malawi in the dry season, uncertain of our future, our role, our ministry. We prayed as fervently for ‘grace to fall down like as rain’ as the farmers pray for the summer storms. We came to Malawi our lives as bare as the brown all around us. As the sun begins to warm Malawi, the intensity of our mission and passion increase. As I left Malawi for Kenya it was so hot. And Jeff and I were so tired. The smell of rain in the air teased our senses and temped our souls with renewal.
I’ve experienced the rain here in Kenya. Torrents pouring down followed by blue sky. The dust washed away and farmers called to the fields. I hope that this rainy season in Malawi will continue to cleanse me, washing away stains of impatience and pride and calling me forward to new ways of living. I pray that my soul will be as fertile as the land that welcomes the rain transforming to brilliant green, displaying praise in every blade of grass and stalk of maize.
I rejoice in this new connection to the seasons and continue to sing,
Hallelujah Hallelujah
Grace fall down like rain
Hallelujah Hallelujah
All my stains are washed away.
