The Upside of the Umbrella

When the lush land of flowers became Florida, everyone could understand the new name for paradise. The description for the peninsula soon spread like springtime. The image for many was a land of blooming flowers and an enchanted garden surrounded by an emerald sea.

The flowers, the vines, and the trees, however, always need the blessing of water to keep paradise flowing. The dry season of winter is always thirsty - with some more than most - but once upon a troubling time, the flowers and greenery of May began to wither and parch, and the rainy season did not begin to bring relief. The heat was a persistent oven, and daily life on the peninsula became an episode of endurance on a desert island.

The weather reports were without hope and relentless. The forecasters were dismal and disappointing with the daily and nightly reports on TV. With every passing day, the words of “extreme” and “severe drought” were the graphics and soundbites in most of the media. When the last days of May began to bake into June, the wildfires began, and smoke from the nearby flames was a constant reminder that life without rain would be a Florida without anything florid.

Soon, the weather became a sensation. One day, the national weather forecasters were showing wildfires burning throughout the entire state. According to the latest bad news bulletin, no region on the peninsula was without smoke. In some cases, the fiery haze was so thick that the burning sun was pink and not as bright as the moon.

When the forecasters could not decide if the wildfires were worse than the drought, a local pastor began calling for nightly prayer meetings after the sun was finally down. The pastor insisted that faith was the answer and that the power of prayer was the solution for many calamities.

On the first evening of the emergency prayer meetings, the haze was so dense there was no discernible sunset. The pastor, however, was outside and braving the smoke as he was welcoming his regular congregation and a few newcomers who had read about the services and began to arrive.

When the door to the church closed against the scent of a campfire gone astray, the gathering was ready to pray for rain and end the plague of the ravaging wildfires. Before the opening prayer, the pastor stepped up to the pulpit and began to look over the parishioners. The church was big, but it was only about half full. The people were eager and present, but there was an unmistakable signal that something was wrong other than the drought and the fires.

After a heavy moment of silence, the pastor offered a smile and then began leading the prayer to end the drought and flames that were growing closer. When the service was over, the pastor spoke to the little crowd and asked everyone to have more faith and show that faith in their daily lives. He also reminded everyone to tell their family and friends that there would be a short prayer meeting every day after sunset to ask God for relief and more faith.

On the following evening, the smoke was worse. The reporters on television were broadcasting more bad news, and the reports of more fires and no rain in the forecasts brought a mood of doom and gloom even into the church.

Once again, the pastor began the climb to his station beside the altar where he could survey his congregation. The crowd was bigger, and there were newcomers with desperate faces. The pastor at once looked to the back of the sanctuary and the umbrella stands that were empty and waiting. When his smile came, it was again with patience.

The following day, the news crews had television vans on the streets with the cameras pointing at the feeble and pink sun that was dim above the smoke. Under the weighty overcast and the ashes that were falling, the outdoor lighting that usually came on only after dark was another glowing signal that Florida was in trouble.

The pastor was steadfast in his faith and his belief never wavered. Every evening after sunset, he was waiting on the steps of his church to welcome his parishioners. The pastor, however, as he was carefully watching the church crowd growing bigger after every gloomy sunset, could not help but be disappointed.

After a week of leading prayers for rain and an end to the devastating flames and destruction, the pastor became frustrated with his flock. The church was now full every evening, but the skies were darker than ever with soot, falling ashes, and smoke.

The pastor was patient, but he was also able to see the truth. Finally, when the pastor began to lead the customary prayers, he did not pray for rain and an end to the flames, but instead he began to pray for faith. The congregation needed more faith, he explained, or the prayers would not work.

On the last night of the emergency prayer meetings, the pastor was visibly upset. It seemed no one in the church was showing tangible evidence for faith. Finally, with the scent of smoke drifting even under the closed doors of the sanctuary, the pastor shook his head in frustration until he saw the little girl with her parents. Then his smile was big enough to radiate through any soot, smoke, or destruction. The little girl’s faith was the strongest of all. She was the only one ready for the answer to the prayers. She was holding an umbrella, and when the pastor pointed and the congregation saw her and The Upside of the Umbrella, thunder shook the church, and a heavy downpour began with the latest rainy season in Florida.