The thunderclap made my heart rejoice! I knew the rain was closing in, and I decided to set out my towel and shampoo for the opportune moment. It had been three days since my last bucket wash, and my hair was beginning to feel quite greasy. The rainwater running off of the roof would provide the perfect water pressure for a good lather and rinse.

In a moment, the rain had come. I untied my hair and filled my left palm with shampoo. Stepping out of the front door, I leaned forward to let my hair catch the water cascading off of the corrogated tin roof. There was something fierce in the rain that afternoon. It blew in sheets and crashed to the ground in buckets. As I washed my hair, I began to realize that the rest of my body was also getting soaked.

“Wow, shampooed hair, a shower, and clean laundry!” I grinned to myself, trying to think positively.

Shampoo rinsed and hair rung out as much as possible in the middle of the deluge, I stepped back into the room, feeling a chill begin to invade my body, wet clothes clinging tightly. As my sandaled foot came down on the concrete floor inside, I noticed that I was still standing in water.

“Uh oh.”

Yes, the leaky roof was graciously welcoming the rain to feel at home inside the building, and aforementioned rainwater was accepting the generous hospitality.

My head immediately turned to Mr. Tent (as yet unnamed) across the room, and my feet began moving, almost involuntarily. Our new house guest was intent on taking up residence inside Mr. Tent, my suitcase, and my powder blue sleeping bag.

Now – I try to be hospitable, and I pray that God gives me more generosity, but I have not yet received that grace for inanimate objects. With lightening speed, I gathered my belongings and stowed them on higher ground, saving them almost entirely from the influence of our sudden house guest.

Mr. Tent, however, took quite a liquid beating, but, in all fairness, so did I. The two of us may consider beginning a support group to provide inner healing to those who have experienced this same trauma in their lives. You know, “comforting others with the same comfort we have received.” Something like that.

In the mean time, Mr. Tent is struggling with identity issues. Dear readers, please feel free to suggest a name for him. He was unexpectedly christened yesterday, without a name.

How tragic! I’m sure you agree.

About Jennie Joy

I'm a lover and truth-seeker. This blog is a place for me to share my thoughts, struggles, and sincere searchings as I get to know God and welcome the reality of His kingdom in and through me.

2 responses »

  1. Meredith!!! says:

    Jennie! I just read this post out loud to my roommate, and we both laughed! I love your way with words. I really think you should call your tent “Mr. Tent” or Senor Tent-o. haha.

  2. Jennie-Joy says:

    Hahaha… 🙂 I love you Meredith!

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