Here's what happened: yesterday we planned to spend the morning in the library and start walking in the early afternoon, since the town we were headed for had no library--and it was supposed to be a little rainy, so maybe we could sit out the rain in the morning. Well, Paul checked the weather and then we got out of the library pretty soon; showers in the morning, it said, and a rainstorm in the afternoon.
We walked and walked; we ate lunch by some train tracks and walked some more. We didn't worry too much about beating the rain, it didn't look too bad...
Then, as we passed a few houses by the side of the road, a tall country guy with grey hair and a beard called to us, "Y'all want a beer?"
We crossed over and explained that we drink beer but not really while we're walking because the alcohol can dehydrate you. He said he had some light beer; we shook our heads and he offered ice water. Paul took the opportunity to explain that we were hoping to make it to Lenox before the rain did, and our new friend said, "Oh, Lenox ain't but seven miles!" Well, yes, we said, and at our pace it would take us most of the day. "I'll give y'all a ride then," he said.
It started to sprinkle as he gave us a ride, chatting about Florida and Paul's parents' retirement village, where our friend had done some construction work. It had stopped when we got to Lenox and spotted a good picnic shelter back behind a church. We said goodbye and went to settle in.
Within fifteen minutes, it had started to rain. It didn't stop till almost twenty-four hours later.
Okay, I'm stretching that, but for all practical purposes it was true. When we woke up in the morning it had stopped, and we prepared to get going, and about one minute before we were going to step out on our day's walk it started again.
And I mean rain.
I'm happy for Georgia. It started out fine, drizzly, that you-don't-notice-till-you're-soaked rain; then it got a little more serious; then it poured. It was unpaved and sandy under the picnic shelter, and there were no tables, just a bench along one end and a sort of shelf along the other; when it poured, little runnels ran through it down the slope. Paul slept on the shelf; I slept part of the night on the one part of the sandy floor that was too high to have any runnels; but the wind blew spray in on me, and I switched to the shelf; then switched back again when the wind changed. I got plenty of sleep, honest.
And in the morning, there we were, our little world a picnic shelter surrounded by rain. I did all my mending: the button I'd lost on my shirt, the straggling threads on my jacket lining... We read, we had a long morning prayer time... I took a nap. We only had crackers and peanut butter--we'd planned to do our shopping in the next town... but Paul braved the first few moments of clearing-up to go to the dollar store for tuna, canned ham, chips and applesauce, and we had a pretty nice meal. And, finally, it was over. The sun began to show through.
We walked maybe two or three miles, and then got a ride to where we are now.
And that's how God got us through Tropical Storm Wossname without even getting wet. (Just very damp. Ick!)
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