I love walking in the rain under an umbrella. I especially like my umbrella of many colors. It is large enough that if a child I love wants to join me, there’s room. Or, if I feel a twirl coming on and need to stretch out one arm – there’s room. Under its generous space, I have a place to think.
The day doesn’t have to be warm to entice me into its rain drop drenched air. Any rainy day will do.
This is where I sometimes go to clear my head or talk things over with God. Because we live in the country, I can walk along the gravel and say what I need to out loud. A few years ago, I took a walk along a different gravel road. The rain was gentle although my thoughts were stormy. I’d spent the morning with a woman who was facing a crisis pregnancy – not her first. She’d confided a dreadful secret: the child in her womb was her 8th child. She’d given one up for adoption and the others to abortion. With tears streaming down her face she told me how abortion had become her birth control backup.
The timing was hard – Jon and I had just completed infertility testing and had come away with no real answers. I was pretty sure I had enough sorrow on my plate thank you very much.
When the rain started to fall that day, I yearned for the solitude of a rainy day walk. Under my canopy I stopped in the middle of the road and began an earnest discussion with God.
“Father, it doesn’t make any sense. I love her – more now than I did before I knew about the abortions. That has to be You. I am not capable of this on my own. Ever. The me side of this wants to know why You gave her those babies instead of us. The You side of me wants to love her and help her find healing in You. I love the other women in my life who have had abortions too. I know You want to use me somehow in their lives but, what are You thinking? It doesn’t make any sense at all to have a barren woman minister to post-abortive women. We have so little in common.”
I waited as the rain danced off my umbrella.
Truth washed across my soul with this thought: “It didn’t make sense that I sent my sinless Son died for your sins long before you were conceived either, but I did.”
I didn’t hear an actual voice, but something in my heart recognized the inner voice of my Shepherd.
Still in the middle of the road, I surrendered to God’s perfect logic.
In that moment, grief engulfed me. I burst into tears of loss and ache – not for the babies I’d never carry in my womb, but for the women whose wombs had been emptied intentionally. Sobbing, I walked home promising God I’d do whatever He asked me.
A couple of years later an idea was born in my heart – a novel I didn’t want to write. Three years after that my novel, Rain Dance, was birthed in publication. Since then, I’ve had the privilege of standing with post-abortive women and we share our stories together.
What didn’t make sense, at first, makes perfect sense as people begin to hear these beautiful, talented, intelligent, and believing women tell their stories.
Face to face with these women what was once a political conviction becomes a personal connection.
And yes, years later, with arthritis in my knees, I still love to walk in the rain. I’m more careful, but am still having those conversations with God while the rain dances on my umbrella.
Do you like walking in the rain?
Until Next Time,
You can buy Rain Dance for your Kindle from Amazon.
Or you can listen to Rain Dance!
Would you like to receive a FREE copy of Between the Lies and updates about future books? Sign up by clicking the book cover below.