The tap, tap, tap on the mental roof turned into pitter-patter-pitter-patter, and my mother-in-law and I looked at each other with an expression of urgency.  The clothes we had hung outside on the line the day before hadn’t dried, and for fear of night-time rain we had brought them in, damp in their hamper near the back door.  On this particular morning we had optimistically re-clipped them to the metal wire spanning the entire yard from the neighbors’ wall to the side of the house.  It had dawned clear over the mountains, but seemingly out of nowhere the clouds had rolled in, and it was now raining in what should have been the first days of the dry season in Costa Rica.     In looking at our clothes and shoes and hiking boots in the backyard, it struck me that clothes-drying is a kind of microcosm for understanding vocation.  Discerning […]