Everything on this flight was going wrong.
First, I was stuck in a window seat. And I never sit in a window seat. My bad knee cramps if I can’t stretch it into the aisle. The battery in my iPod was shot. I’d finished my book, and now my computer screen had died, so I couldn’t even catch up on work.
I travel a lot for business, and plane rides were certainly nothing new. But a flight with nothing to distract me? This is sure going to be a long two hours, I thought.
I laid my head back. Maybe I could get some sleep. But as soon as I closed my eyes, problems filled my mind, like the drought we were having back home in Texas. It had been over a month since we’d seen rain. My yard, my plants—everything was dying. Farmers and ranchers were suffering.
I opened my eyes and turned my head to look out the window. We were flying due south of Phoenix. The land far below was a patchwork of tan and brown.
Then came a soft prompting: Why don’t you pray for those people down there? They need rain too.
I certainly had the time up here. Lord, it’s been a hot dry summer. There’s a lot of folks who need rain… I began. The plane flew on, and the scenery
changed to mountains, then cities and freeways.
Sometimes all I could see were layers of clouds. But I never ran out of things to pray for: mothers, fathers, children, grandparents, the earth…
When I finally felt the soft thud of the landing gear against the runway, I could hardly believe so much time had passed.
In fact, I had never felt so good at the end of a flight. I was energized. Hopeful. Ready to face whatever might come my way.
It wasn’t until I exited baggage claim and headed out to the parking lot with my gear that I realized something extraordinary—it was raining.
