Well I must confess that I do relish alliteration as perhaps, my favorite writing flourish, so expect to find it often on these pages. But onto the subject of today’s post: rain. And more specifically, singin’ in the rain. Perhaps more literally, hiking in the rain. In Hawaii. Yes it’s about as amazing as it sounds. As long as you are a bit “hard core” as my daughter likes to phrase it. But first, a little background:
My friend and I decided to get our two boys together and hike Hawaii. More specifically O’ahu as neither of us have unlimited travel budgets and we happen to live about 5 minutes apart on opposite ends of the very same street. Our boys enjoy a brotherly relationship and as they are both “only” children of sorts (Her son literally and mine figuratively), we have been cultivating their relationship by meeting at the playground near my house and taking field trips together whenever possible.
So for our first hike we decide to go with the familiar, at least familiar to my friend, who grew up here. The weather started out rainy, and as that is not too strange for Hawaii, we didn’t let it daunt us. Our family lived many years in Germany and we tend to pack up our umbrellas and tough it out—rain doesn’t generally scare us off. But by the time we got there, I was a little leary. There was only one other car in the parking lot. Another drove away as we were arriving. “Hmm…” I thought. “Well, we are going to give this a go.” The wind was very strong and my friend said that we did need to beware of mudslides. The signs at the hiking site actually warned us to stay off the path because of the danger of falling rocks. But like all good locals, we ignored the signs and prayed for safety. We all know those signs are there for liability purposes only. Hence the nice paved hiking trail to tempt us onward. Fortunately the winds quickly subsided when we turned the corner and had the hill to shelter us.
As we persevered on that somewhat inclement day, we were indeed richly rewarded with views that made my dear shutterbug daughter, who loves to hike and had decided to accompany us, wish she had not left her camera at home. Mini-waterfalls abounded, as did water on the pathway and plenty of red clayish mud that I used to think only existed in the Southern United States. My feet were soaked within minutes. Undaunted, I noticed silver cirrus clouds hanging low over the mountains (okay maybe they were gray– silver sounds better), creating a stark contrast to the bright blue skies and sunny days we are used to seeing in postcards. But it was strangely appealing. No one was complaining. We were all having fun.
And then the piece de resistance, the grand waterfall that started far in the distance, then disappeared for a time, as if someone had cut the middle of it out, but all of a sudden the end of it reappeared very near you—you could almost touch the water from the path and if you went to the other side and looked over the stone wall, you see the water cascading over the side of the mountain like a young child on one of the gigantic yellow slides that seem to frequent carnivals and fairs. It was impressive beyond what I am able to describe. As the wispy clouds floated in front of the distant waterfall, dancing playfully past it—even the best photographer had to exercise a little patience to capture this marvelous bit of nature. How stunningly beautiful His creation is! And the best part is, that had we not braved the rain, had we turned back when the wind was so strong you could “fall” into it and it would hold you up, we would have missed it. What a great lesson for the kids us adults.
I guess my take-away from this little adventure is that even our rainiest days bring us rewards. Are we looking for them? I often don’t. I just want the rain to end and the sun to come out. I have a friend who is very similar to myself, but in one thing we differ—she likes the clouds and I prefer the sun. It’s really more than a preference. The chemicals in my brain prefer the sun– more than three overcast days and I can feel it “grumbling”. But my point is, God can teach us so much more on the rainy days than the sunny because it is then that we are looking for Him, seeking His face, asking for His guidance. When the sun comes out, I tend to forget he’s there. It’s kind of like, “I’ve got this Dad.” But I really don’t. I only think I do. And so it rains. To keep me near. But despite all that, the rewards are there, I think. Like the waterfall. The rainy day waterfall.
Just two short days later my sweet girl, camera in hand, invited all of us to go back to the trail on Christmas Eve. Even the dog. It was a great memory and I’m so glad we went. The sky clothed in its normal breath-taking blue and the sun in all its glory seemed to declare the Good News that was meant for all people: for unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given…
The photos were lovely, we had so much fun and yes, we did get pretty muddy. But the waterfall? The one we eagerly rushed to share with my husband and adult son? It wasn’t nearly as impressive. Seems the true magnificence of the waterfall can only be displayed on rainy days… a supremely satisfying reward for those who venture out to seek His beauty when it would be easier to just stay home.
If you read carefully at the beginning, you might remember the parking lot had been empty on our first hike. It was FULL on the second. People everywhere. Tourist Buses, Locals, and even a few dogs.
I wonder if they’ll ever know what they missed by waiting for a sunny day.
Lord help me to seek the rewards of the rain, while you teach me to praise you and make you known despite my circumstances. Make my eyes gaze on you as on your marvelous creation. And help me see the good hidden in every trying time. In Jesus Name, Amen.
Decidedly Different 