I had never been so grateful I had packed an umbrella in my life. I was sleeping out in Downsview Park for World Youth Day 2002. I scrunched up as much of myself, my backpack and my sleeping bag as I could under my umbrella as I sat on my portion of the tarp.

As I looked out at my fellow pilgrims in their makeshift tents and heard the rain begin to pound against my umbrella, I began to reflect upon the difficult times that my generation is experiencing and will experience. Terrorism. The 9-11 tragedies. Drugs. Broken families. Religious persecution.

Just as rain is a predictable part of life, Jesus told us that (in the last days) there would be famine, floods, earthquakes, persecution and much suffering. So many of my brothers and sisters sitting in that field that night have experienced untold suffering and hardships. What they had hoped would be a happy and peaceful time in their youth turned out to be a tumultuous time. The future for my generation is certainly going to be filled with very stormy times.

I began to reflect on the Pope's message that week about how Jesus longs to be an intimate companion with us on our journey through life. What does it mean for me to allow Jesus to be an intimate companion with me during this storm?

“God, make it stop raining! You can easily do that!” I prayed. Yet the rain continued to pour. God was still very real and very present. Just because God wasn't answering my prayer the way I wanted to, didn't mean he couldn't or wasn't worthy of my trust.

I wanted to go home. I was exhausted after a week of only minimally adequate sleep. My allergies to grass and weeds were acting up. I had seen way too many bugs. I was tired after little sleep and a more than four-mile hike that day. Some pilgrims began to leave from other groups. The sky showed no evidence of the storm ending soon. Yet someone in our group had heard the forecast that said that the storm would pass and it would be sunny, hot and humid later that day. Our group was staying.

As the rain was still coming down hard and I began to question if my poor umbrella could take much more, the choir began to sing the prelude to Mass. It was gloriously angelic. It was almost unreal. Here I was in the middle of a downpour clutching my umbrella and I began to listen to the “Alleluia” chorus from Handel's Messiah.

And He shall reign forever and ever!

Kind of Kings!

Alleluia! Alleluia!

I had to wipe the tears from my eyes as I listened to both the words and the gloriousness of the choir's singing.

I began to imagine what heaven must be like. I imagined God on his throne as described in the Book of Revelation. The angels and saints surround him in all of his majesty and glory on his throne. Everyone is singing and rejoicing in the utter and indescribable goodness of God. I thought about how that goes on constantly in heaven. God is so utterly awesome that the angels and saints just can't stop worshiping, praising and thanking God.

God never changes. He is always that good, that kind and that amazing in his love for you and me. Regardless of the storm that I can see, the glorious reality of God is still the same, even if I'm in the midst of a storm.

The rain did finally stop at the beginning of the papal Mass. Our prayers were answered.

The sun came out and quickly dried up our drenched belongings. We wouldn't have to carry the weight of the rain on our way back.

Jennifer Czajka writes from Pewaukee, Wisconsin.