I felt the rains... again.

This afternoon, I was overwhelmed by how good God is.

As I went into English class at 4pm, the sky was clear, it was so warm outside, and it had been beautiful all day. By 4:30, it was clear that this was no longer to be the case. The giant clouds rolled in and absolutely darkened the sky. The other teacher and I left 10 minutes early to escape the imminent downpour and were still caught in it as the rain really started coming down. I had told a friend (a French woman who has lived here for over a year) earlier that day that I would visit her this evening, so I rushed over to her house to try and get inside before I was soaked through. Little did I know that she was camped out in her office waiting until the rain lessened.

So, here I am huddled on the lee side of the wall hoping that by this effort I would be spared a thorough dousing but completely failing at staying dry. For the record, there is no lee side of anything when it starts to rain in Rwanda. I looked around and saw that some kids across the street were calling me over to stand under the overhang of their house to wait out the rain, so I ran over to their house. Being the American that I am, I immediately figured out how to take up as little space and be as unobtrusive as possible in the very corner of the overhang. We can't have that now, can we? These kids called me still closer into the front hallway of their home where the mom put out a seat for me in this dry haven. For a while, I mostly just smiled at the kids and tried to figure out their names as I introduced myself. The storm was directly overhead now. There was a great crash of thunder/lightning that happened simultaneously. It shook me to my core and scared the dickens out of both me and the kids sitting next to me.

After about 15 minutes, the rain showed no sign of stopping. The mom came back out of the back room and started speaking to me in Kinyurwanda (I actually have no idea how to spell the name of the language, sorry). I didn't understand a word of what she was saying. She may have been asking me if I wanted something to eat, or she could have been asking me something about Jesus. It's a mystery to me. I was then handed a holographic picture that was one part adult Jesus and one part baby Jesus in the arms of Mary. Then I was handed a book that, from what I could pick up in the pictures and syntax, appeared to be a catechism. The mom would read a line, and I would repeat it back to her. I'm learning how to ponounce words even if I don't know how what they mean. We read through the Magnificat together that way:

My soul glorifies the Lord

and my spirit rejoices in God my savior,

for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.

That's just the beginning, but it was super fitting. I realize that Mary was chose to dear the child of God and she felt pretty overwhelmed to be chosen, but I think that being soaked to the bone and cared for by a complete stranger is also a pretty humble state. It was such a neat experience for me to share with this woman.

When the rain finally did abate, I had spent 40 minutes with this family, I said goodbye and thank you as best I could and ran back across the street looking like a wet rat where I was greeted with the use of a dry shirt and a large mug of hot tea with honey in it. You may not know this, but hot tea with honey warms not just the body but also the soul. This friend took care of me, just as the Rwandan mom had, and we shared stories of life. As she sent me back home for dinner, she sent me with her rain coat so that I wouldn't get doubly soaked on my walk home because, of course, the rain had picked up again. 

I skipped back and forth trying to avoid the big puddles and mud but feeling it wouldn't really matter if I stepped in anything because no amount of cold or wet could dampen my renewed spirit.