Drip. Drip. Drip. I sit cuddled up on the lounge under my old african animals quilt, absentmindedly watching the water from the leak in the chimney, drip into the big bucket beneath it. Outside the rain pours down, beating against the windows and playing a constant tattoo on the roof.
This tune has been the soundtrack of our life for the last few weeks. Some days were quiet, like a scene that doesn’t have music. Some days the music swells and rises dramatically and all other communication is lost in the noise.
We just got home from Church this Sabbath afternoon. Maria had phoned us from her home and said that the river was rising and she wasn’t sure whether we would be able to get Wojtek home. We left as soon as we got the message and Dad juggled speed and safety on the way home. It was a wild ride, though probably the slowest I have experienced with Dad over that road. When we got to the first bridge separating our home from Maria and Wojtek’s, the water lapped at the boards but we could get across. “One down, one to go.” I held my breath all the way in between the two bridges. Craning my neck I waited to see whether we would be able to cross bridge two. We could! We quickly drove across and delivered Wojtek safe and sound back home. Maria told us the the bridge had been under a few moments ago. God must have let it go down just for us I think. We got back home safe and sound and relatively dry ready to settle down for a quiet Sabbath afternoon.
I love how that God is always working little miracles in EVERYONE’S lives, even though we might not see them. But if we look for them, they are there. Try it some day and see how much God is really working in your life.
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