The rainy season where we live starts in June and it amazes me how the rain knows just when to come. Here it is, May 31st, and - wham - the heavens opened and down comes the rain.
It's just a soft, spring-like rain that makes the dirt smell good and cools things off (for a little while) but it's rain none the less.
I have a few worries, like, what am I going to do for the next four months to get my clothes dry after washing them and is our new neighborhood going to flood when the hard rains come (I think - yes)?
But then I come downstairs and find two ladies from our church who are basically squaters and live in a slum area about 15 yards from the train tracks. Rain to them means - our house gets flooded, our makeshift roof colapses, everything we own gets ruined. Our food supplies get spoiled. We get diseases - like last year (brain fever) and currently one of the women's youngest children has malaria.
We prayed and they'll be looking for a house to rent. We'll pray they can find one at the right price. Everyone works in these families and they can afford to live in a rented house but they've spent their entire lives living as squaters and the thought of having to pay a rent and an electric bill is offensive to them but it's a step they need to take.