And the rain came down

It rained all night last night, and all night the night before that. It hasn't affected us all that much, but a lot of places have been devastated by floods and landslides. I saw a picture in the paper the other day that showed how the ground under a roadway had been completely eaten away by the water. From above, I don't suppose you could even tell, until you tried to drive on it. There are a couple of spots like that on the road between here and Siguatepeque. They are well marked, fortunately. In a place we visited not too long ago, the whole side of a mountain has come down, forming a dam of mud and rock, forming, in turn, a lake. If this natural dam suddenly breaks, the water from this new lake could wipe out a town down river. People are comparing the damage in some areas to the damage done by Mitch, the hurricane that devastated Honduras ten years ago. Every day the paper has shown pictures of neighbors helping neighbors, of people reaching out to save somebody else's stuff.

I've been thinking how troubles in general are like this rainy season. A bit of trouble or difficulty, like a night of rain, is something we expect and accept as part of life. When troubles keep coming, like night after night of rain, we really can't handle it without a little help from friends. The difference is that when it comes to a flooded house or a mudslide, the need for help is pretty obvious. People with a flood of troubles sometimes look pretty much like they always do-- kind of like the road surface that looks fine from above, but eaten away underneath. It is a lot easier to hide a mudslide in your heart than a mudslide on a mountain.

We don't always sense the importance of an encouraging word or act of kindness. It is easy to let moments of opportunity pass to build someone up. We shouldn't. We just never know when someone needs a little help from a friend.