rain

I was reminded yesterday of the joy and blessing of rain. Bicycling home from the University greeted me with an intense thunderstorm. With the impossibility of avoiding wetness, I embraced the powerful winds, inches of water, and subsequent showers from passing automobiles. In any case, I couldn't help but silently laugh as my clothing turned from its normal colour to a darkened shade.

Last evening, much of Waterloo Region changed in appearance: tree branches helplessly soared above ground, the sky gradually transformed from sun to cloud, and large droplets of the powerful ingredient needed for growth majestically infiltrated every crevice and speck of dirt. Running this morning with my father was less of a speed workout than a flexibility and agility experiment. Snail oceans (also known as human puddles), branches, and soggy dirt was the foundation upon which my running shoes touched. Coming home, I was freckled with dirt. A natural reminder of human uninvited presence in forests and tranquil environments. The newspaper boasted of public complaints of power outages, of clean up, and of property damage, yet I thought less of the rain in Canada and thought more of the curse of rain in Africa, notably central Africa.

Allow me to briefly explain. The inconsistent rain patterns confusing local African agriculturalists hinder the productive ability of the soil to produce Africa's life support. Extended droughts, accompanied with short and intense rainstorms destruct the land on which central Africa has traditionally thrived. Familiar to each of us is the necessity of water for growth: human, animal, plant, or in summary: the ecosystem(s) in which we each belong. I will not burden this post with emotional reminders of the effects of drought but I will gently ask that the next time a rainstorm destructs an eaves trough, a front porch, a mature tree, or a running route, thank God for the blessing of rain and say a prayer for the countries of Africa depending on rain for sustainable development.