Praising in the Rain

"What happened to our holiday?" Jenny sighed, fighting tears.  Cold, soggy tent material swished over her face as we lay in our little tent in the (rainy) Bay of Islands.

I frowned into the darkness. Jenny was a diabetic and had health problems to cope with. 

What was going on with our holiday?

Our New Zealand holiday had begun in Auckland  - a sunny, blue-skied time. We slept on comfy beds and were treated to wonderful home-cooked meals.

As soon as we'd collected our luggage at the airport, we’d established that we could not hitch around the two islands. Our knees buckled as we wobbled across the airport lounge with the heavy metal-framed packs on our backs.We barely made it across the room!   

So we bought a car – a 1949 bright orange Vauxhall, for a mere $120 between five of us (1976, mind you).  Consequently we called it Amazing Gracie. Little did we know how often that car would earn its name!

 Photo from Pixabay

Gracie puttered all the way up to the Bay of Islands. We’d heard how beautiful this area was – but we saw mainly dense white mist. It was raining!

In a gap between rain showers, hoping it had cleared, we pitched two tents in a camping ground as the  daylight faded. I began the night stretching out my sleeping bag near our tent, hoping to sleep under the stars. 

Just as I began to relax, a drip fell on my forehead.  Oh no! Then another. 
Soon it was raining in earnest so I grabbed my sleeping bag and crawled into the tent with the other two girls.

                           
                                                   Photo from Pixabay

We dozed intermittently while it rained all night. The synthetic tent fabric sagged, soggy and cold, on Jenny’s face. 

We woke from occasional dozing to a drizzly, cold morning.

God! I thought, this is meant to be a holiday!

I was determined not to be robbed. A thought whispered inside me. “Let’s praise God for the rain!” I said.

We began a feeble praising and singing which grew stronger as we cheered up.

Everything was cold and damp. Our clothes, our backpacks, our sleeping bags. 

But no longer our spirits.

The tent was sodden.

An unfamiliar man’s face appeared at the opening of the tent.

“Would you girls like to come to our caravan and have a hot drink?” he asked. “My wife told me to ask you.”

We combed our wet hair and straightened our clothes, then followed him to a caravan.

Soon we were sitting in a cosy mini-lounge, sipping hot chocolate and eating a snack breakfast. It warmed us through and cheered our spirits.

Had our praises turned the corner for us? We wondered.

Later that morning we packed up and began the trip back down the island.  The surrounding countryside was blotted out by dense greyish-white cloud.
Suddenly Peter told us, "You'd better pray if you want to see Mt Egmont!"

We gazed in dismay at the impenetrable cloud. And prayed.

The clouds parted until, a few miles along, there was Mt Egmont, sparkling with its snow-capped peak piercing the clear blue sky and glittering in the sunshine.