This week is one fraught with emotion, between the events in Valencia last week of super mega flash floods to the Day that is Today, most awaited US elections.

Just writing that sentence above felt heavy.

One week ago, the heaven opened up and the storm systen called Gota Fria, or cold drop, let over 19 inches of rain to fall in just moments in the Valencia regions. We had much less, perhaps 3 or 4 inches, and as my friend pointed out, we proved the saying, The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain. Since Granada is bumped up against the Sierra Nevada mountain range, and is surrounded by 4 rivers, we watched it all go past us.

But in Valencia, it overwhelmingly flash flooded in a way that caught everyone flat footed. Mud, sticks, cars and trucks floated by as if they were toys, and people screamed and cried and terror. Now that the mud has settled, over 850,000 people and 69 different towns and villages have been affected by this horrible act.

Worse than this, before the rain had even stopped, the politicians were already throwing mud at each other, placing blame for a failed alert system and who would activate what state of emergency how and when.

Tempers where high and ran even higher help failed to come quickly. Thursday we were flooded with images of thousands upon thousands of people walking to help. They brought their mops and sticks and bottles of water and loaves of bread and started taking care of their neighbors, government and military be damned. I have never seen such a massive grassroots movement, writing about it still gives me shivers.

So take on three whole days of slugging it out in the mud, and the King and President of the country and the region do a walkabout. What do you think happened? All the pent up grief and rage and lack of attention just boiled over, with dead neighbors still rotting in their garages, the Spanish picked up mud and eggs and slung them at the Presidents and King and Queen.

The presidents tucked their tails between their legs and ran and the King and Queen stood unflinching, hugging, crying, wiping mud from their faces and saying things like You are right to those sobbing and I'm sorry.

The emotional outpouring of angry, grief and rage is so beautifully human and is an element of Spanish culture that I am so glad to be part of and one that I hold closest to my heart.

Yes, the food, the wine, the siestas, the slow walks in the long afternoons, these are fantastic elements. I love them. The way they do outings, slowly enjoying the beach, the mountains, the city. The way a lunch can go 3, 4, 5, hours until it turns into dinner. Fantastic.

But what I will always love, is the Spanish ability to be completely and utterly raw. Angry, upset, joyous, happy, greeting you with Me alegro a verte, I'm so happy to see you, and saying, your sadness weighs me down when you lose a loved one.

I remember when I came home from Covid and it was my Spanish landlord who bravely walked down the steps to knock on my door and a mask over his face but tears in his eyes say his condolences for my uncle Jack who had died in April that year from Covid. No one else does raw emotion and grief like the Spanish do.

And so, when they slung mud and screamed Murderers! we all felt it. But the King and Queens response of dignity, of pain and suffering, of empathy, and of no fear, somehow made just the tiniest bit of difference and had something melt away. The next day even the most antimonarch news station had nothing but good things to say.

I know that King Felipe is just a man, a good man, solidly educated, wonderfully dressed, very good looking, and dedicated to his country, but his solid example this past Sunday was a beautiful moment of humankind and one I will never forget.

The next day, I had a long, long note from my uncle Peter and he used the metaphor of photography to discuss things of life, of a photo being of a secret of a secret and so forth, and his metaphor has pushed me to use one of my own.

You see, the Jesus we never knew in the Gospels is a King that is one we never knew.

He isn't proud Saul who won battles and then lived in overwhelming jealousy when David took over.

He isn't King David, who rose to glory and fell to shame by killing a man to take his wife.

He isn't even King Felipe of Spain, or King Charles of the UK, who hold nomial power and can only find moments to shine and show what true royalty is.

No, He's the king of the people, who stands unflinching when mud is thrown (a little like Felipe a few days ago) and understands the power of empathy and and hug and I'm sorry this happened to you.

He is the king who gave bread when they were hungry, but refused to be maniuplated when they craved more food.

He is the king who humilitated himself to the lowest of humilitaions and in turn will be lifted higher than any of us can imgaine. He was scorned, whipped, beaten, and brutally murdered between two horrific criminals, after doing nothing but saying He was a King of Kings and that the religious leaders didn't understand who God really was.

He's the king that can handle our raw emotion, our anger,grief, frustation, fears, and look us straight in the eyes and help us know He knows.

And, he is the king who embraced women and lepers and terrrorist and thieves and ate food with them and yes even ate with the religious leaders who killed him and walked beside the men at Emmaus showing them the whole time who he was. He was born of a young woman in humble beginnings, but was welcome everywhere, even creating wine to party another couple of days at a simple wedding.

He touched people.

He healed them.

And told them to remember and never be the same.

He is the king that picks up his robes and runs gleefully to the door of his house shouting, I"ve waited so long for you! drink with me, eat with me and there is so much room in my house for you!"

He is the Jesus you never knew.

And he, my dear readers, is God bigger than the whole universe, but ready to eat and drink with us and wipe away all the pains, all the sorrow, all the depression and anxieties we have, and we will never be the same.

I lay in bed last night unable to sleep, praying, tossing, turning. I've done this since I can't hardly remember. Crying out, waiting for a moment when all the hairs stand up on the back of my neck and I know I wasn't alone in the dark room. And last night, I knew, it was a before and after moment. I don't know what has all changed, but I know He is the King of Kings and its all under his control.

The walls many of us have experienced, be they political, social, spiritual, religious and more, are the walls that we so loveingly build to protect us, but at the same time, they restrain us. The King of Kings has come to give us abundant free life, we just have to ask for it, and He can change us in ways we can hardly imgaine. He's done it for me, again and again and again. We just have to ask.

And the Kingdom comes to earth as it exists in Heaven.