It started teasing us a few days ago. Gray clouds would loom, build. I could see it raining away out over the ocean. Where it stayed. Those gray clouds got brighter, moved off and let the sun have its way. Once in a while they'd sprinkle a few drops here and there.
And then today, it poured.
Huge wet drops, soaking my lawn and nourishing my flowers. Filling our tanks.
I'm thankful for the rain.
I'm thankful for an end to a dry season, even if it be a short reprieve.
As I watch the splashes on my patio, I'm reminded of the many times I've wandered in the desert of my own dry season. I remember days of despondency, days when I was so discouraged I just wanted to give up writing for good. Days when I just wanted to stay under the covers.
We can go through different kinds of droughts.
Droughts in our creativity. Droughts in relationships. Droughts in spirit.
I've found when I'm in the middle of a spiritual drought, every other problem I may be dealing with is magnified. Nothing works. Nothing makes sense. Nothing provides hope.
It's hard to explain how I end up in that place. Hard to explain how a once lush and fertile land dries up and refuses new growth. But it happens.
Have you been there?
It's not fun. It's isolating.
But I think it's necessary.
How much more precious is that rainfall today than it would be if we'd had rain everyday for the last year?
Sometimes our dry seasons make us appreciate everything so much more when we come out of them. Sometimes we are rewarded for our patience and perseverance in ways we couldn't imagine.
Rain comes in many forms.
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