We live in Southern California where dry summers and arid, blue skies reign. And after a remarkably dry winter, the word drought, is heard often in these parts. But lately…something has been happening…
Many of the days over the last few weeks have met us with clouds rolling in. The light has dimmed and the air has cooled and the children and I have peeked out the windows to see and to feel that sense of coming rain. Many times, we’ve gotten droplets. A few plip…plop, plip…plops. Enough to make little specks on the dry, parched boards of the porch. To bring a crispness to the air, hope to our hearts. But the drops are few. We could sit and count them as they land most days if we wanted to. But when a hand is reached out, even those few sparse drops are heavenly. We’re surrounded by dry and dying plants. Tall and mighty pines aching for wet soil just as much as we are. Yet it doesn’t come. Each day those clouds roll in–taunting with their load of cool, wet comfort–we watch in wonder if today might be the day.
If today might be the day.
We watch and wait to see if the rains will come down, soak the land that’s hungry for it. As we all are.
It’s got me to thinking. Each time the children and I tiptoe outdoors and peer up at a dimming sky, I’m reminded that all things come in due time. Perhaps it’s what we long for, what we ache for, but perhaps God is still there whispering — not yet. Not yet, my children.
And so we wait. We trust. That one day, the blessing will rain down.
And when it does…what a day it will be. My children talk about how they’ll run in the rain. I’ll be out there too. And when that day comes, I’ll hold close the promise that droughts aren’t forever. All good things come in due time.
In due time. And on that day, it’s going to be glorious.
Have there been times in your life when you’ve been waiting on the rain? How has God met you there?