I spend the morning washing my clothes in a bucket and as soon as I hang them on the line, dark clouds come looming over the mountains. I quickly begin praying that the rain does not come so that my clothes will dry and I will have something to wear in the morning. However, about a half hour passes, and the rain comes pouring down, so I decide to allow my clothes an extra rinse cycle, knowing they will already be drenched by the time I arrive at the clothesline.
The storm comes through our small camp ground with a force that tears down branches, but we are left with puddles of sweet reflection, a clarity from the washing of dirt, and a joyful song to sing with the parking lot birds. After the rain, the gardener roams around, pulling weeds from the loosened soil. My soul is loosened as well, and the Great Gardener is actively uprooting lies and things that are not pleasing to him, transforming my overgrown, unruly garden into one full of thriving foliage and resplendent flowers blooming with unseen vibrancy.
Later, I find that someone has moved all of my clothes under the veranda before the rain had a chance to hit them. I smile and thank God for hearing my prayer and not answering it in the way that I expected, because it reminds me that His ways are not our ways, they are perfect and good. The Albanian earth was thirsty, in need of water. I was in need of dry clothes, and He provided both.
