By Brenda Black
Like an epic Bible story, a fist-full
of clouds began to assimilate into one long, dark wall of wet
potential. We watched the developing front as if it were a cinematic
production and wondered how the dramatic story would end. Would it
come straight west and douse our crunchy yard? Would it hold together
long enough to quench a thirsty earth spread for hundreds of miles?
The steely streaks of precipitation had us captivated.
In order to determine just who was
getting rain while we weren't, my son and I set out on a countrified
storm chase. Instead of crazily speeding down a Kansas highway
straight into a tornado, we piddled slowly along gravel roads, with
the windows down. Our only high tech equipment to monitor the weather
were limp hands dangling near the truck mirrors and the external temp
reading on the pickup. We watched it gradually drop five degrees as
we drew nearer the target. After a few miles, we realized it was
farther away than we had estimated, so we stopped to take in the
scene and the smell of rain expectations.
Fairly quickly, our view from a high
hill verified the storm was drifting southwest. All we could do was
hope that the front would widen or that winds would shift and
moisture would float a little more north to reach us. As we watched
the clearly delineated downpour drift more south, our hopes wandered
away with it, but for a moment we caught the smell of showers of
blessing while those in its direct path enjoyed the actual dampness.
I have to admit, I was a bit jealous
of those fortunate folks. And tempted to begrudge them. I briefly
entertained the thought of unfairness and why our prayers were going
unanswered while others were having theirs met. The painstaking proof
from testimonies the next day would confirm that the southerners
enjoyed God's favor for three hours and a couple inches worth. Those
stats stung like pelting rain in October rather than soothing soft
showers in July.
The waterworks missed our yard, the
garden, and the pastures. We still sit high and dry, baking and
burning to a crisp while others this week are doing a happy dance.
And I am happy for them.
What good would it do me to despise
those who have no say in God's omnipotent ways. How can I hold it
against others, who are just as desperate for a touch of relief, if
they get blessed and we get overlooked. I think back a few years
when our area was green all summer and every county around was
envious. This time 'round, it appears to have flip-flopped.
Some will be wet and happy; others
will remain dry and grumpy this summer. God rains on the just and the
unjust and it really has little to do with county lines or religious
rituals. The primary source that determines the weather pattern in
the middle latitudes is the upper level flow pattern. Now, that's not
to say we shouldn't pray. In fact, the more we realize how much we
take for granted that God waters the world without our asking, the
better we can appreciate His mighty power and acknowledge it through
supplication. And when we grasp how gracious God is to us in plenty
and in want, then we are refreshed.
Whenever I become tempted to feel
forsaken or jealous of another's good fortune, then it's time for a
heart-wrenching drenching. I am blessed no matter my circumstances! I
choose to be thankful rather than disdainful. Rain or no rain – God
is good and He knows best! To live with any other philosophy is to
only invite bitterness. Often our struggles and disappointments are
proof that a soul's dry and weary soul needs watering. And those who
can offer the most encouragement are those who have suffered
likewise. In the current drought choking our Midwest, we are upheld
by Texas and Oklahoma neighbors still recovering from their own time
of barrenness. We are reminded of those still fighting unrelenting
fires and losing so much more than grass in the Northwest.
Dry seasons in life can bring regret
or initiate productive reflection. Our choice may well define us.
“As water reflects a face, so a man's heart reflects the man.”
(Proverbs 27:19) I long to be growing and green in the Lord even if
I'm living in a desert. Because I am now more cognizant of my
dependency on God for moisture, as well as grace, I welcome that
tempting smell of rain.
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