Our cup over­flows. Lit­er­al­ly. Our part of the coun­try was des­per­ate­ly dry. Over the past two years, we had a rain de­fi­cit of over 60 cen­ti­meters. In Ju­ly and Au­gust 2003, we got al­most no mea­sur­able pre­ci­pi­ta­tion.

Temperatures were ap­proach­ing 40°C. Far­mers were start­ing the ha­rvest ear­ly in hopes of sav­ing what they could from their sun blast­ed fields. Barge traf­fic was stop­ping due to low ri­ver le­vels.

Then we got down on our knees and prayed for rain. Not just for show­ers, but hard, soak­ing, gul­ly wash­ers. Buck­ets of rain. Oceans of rain. Then it be­gan.

One morn­ing af­ter get­ting up, I looked at our rain gauge and couldn’t see the float­ing or­ange in­di­ca­tor ring. It was in­vi­si­ble be­cause the gauge was ab­so­lute­ly full to the brim, over­flow­ing!

This had ne­ver hap­pened be­fore, as long as we had lived in our cur­rent home. We got over 15 cen­ti­me­ters in three days, and it was still rain­ing at this wri­ting on Au­gust 31, 2003. God is good!