Rain

“Into each life a little rain must fall,” but five inches! I just returned from arid Colorado and dread experiencing some of our heavy Pennsylvania humidity. I just never imagined five inches of “humidity” or at least that’s what my neighbor’s rain gauge registers.
My wife is at a women’s conference and I am returning home to an empty house. I’ve just had dinner and a pleasant evening with friends. Its way past my bedtime as I drive home in a nice light rain and I am anxious to crawl into bed. Suddenly, about two miles from home, torrential rains suddenly pound on the sheet metal of my car making it sound like a big drum and flooding the roads. Immediately I have flashbacks to Luzon in the Philippines during summer monsoon seasons many years ago. I am now inching my way along because the road has disappeared into a “sea” of water and I desperately look for a higher speed on my windshield wipers. They’re already at the highest speed and just seem to momentarily part the torrents instead of removing it.
I get totally soaked dashing thirty feet to the garage (I still am working to make room inside for my car). Once inside, I mop my head and take a towel to sit on as I descend into the basement for a final check of my e-mail and Face book before retiring for the night. I can still hear the pounding of the of rain and instinctively check the edge of the carpet as I pass. Oh no; dampness. I momentarily mentally shift on to email. When I finish I turn to see a small trickle sneaking across the surface of the carpet on the outside wall bordering our backyard. It’s a small but determined trickle and its presence makes a silently defiant declaration that I am in trouble. Soon I am emptying every closet of every towel and they are all spread throughout the area sopping wet. Defeated, I head for bed and fitful sleep.
At the crack of dawn I prepare to abort everything I’ve planned for the day and “wade” (figuratively) into the soggy mess. The area is about six feet by twenty feet and I am thankful that it actually doesn’t extend much beyond all the sopping towels. I call my insurance agent, “No, it isn’t covered. It’s a flood not a homeowner’s insurance item.” I then call ServiceMaster carpet cleaning service as soon as they open for business and am informed that I am the second person from Schnecksville to call. Little comfort especially when they say an average recovery cost from a storm is fifteen hundred dollars. That almost stopped my frugal heart! Fortunately friends with a Wetvac and another with a dehumidifier provide what I need to bring this mess down to what is now diminishing dampness. Although time will tell if any stealthy mildew will do a sneak attack, I’ve at least brought the situation to a draw for now.
I’ve learned a few things in the process. Even the “wonderful lifeblood of the universe” needs moderation or it can turn on me. I think back to all the times I’ve saturated myself in some newly discovered “greatness.” Often it was to the point that I couldn’t absorb anymore (and often beyond) and to the exclusion of everything else. There is something in me that wants “more and more.” It’s hard to comprehend that the same substance that is ready to give relief to my parched throat almost caused a disaster in my home. Perhaps my discernment should not be so fixed on identifying substances but more on uses and effects. I’ve found even “good” can be “bad.”