As I write this,
the rain is a steady drizzle outside. It hasn’t rained this much since
November. I keep returning to the image of a garden when I think of my heart,
mind, and soul—that good fruits must be carefully cultivated in those fertile
places—and the rain reminds me of that this morning. Rain is a necessity for
the garden. Water hydrates the seedlings and helps them to grow stronger.
We too have
times of rain in our lives, where nothing seems to be going as planned and all
of our preconceived notions about where we will be, what we will do, and who we
are wash away. I am in one of those rainy seasons now. Only six weeks ago, I
expected to be living in Cleveland until August, making new friends in the
area, and looking for a new job come June, or maybe even July. Instead, I am at
home and looking for a job now. In February. And it is raining. My expectations
for the next six months have washed away.
If the rain did
not fall, though, what reasons would we have to grow and change? When would we
be challenged to sink our roots deeper in the soil? How else would we be forced
to consider that we are not in control? The rain may startle us, but it reminds
us to consider these questions and not to settle for a shallowly rooted
existence.
For me, and I
hope for you, the rainy season is not futile. It is an opportunity to grow my
roots deep as I wait for the sunshine to return. While I am waiting, I am
searching again for who I am and what I will do, how I will blossom. I am
storing up the strength to unfold my petals. And the sun will come soon. It
always does.
But now? Now is
the time to rejoice in hope, the hope that we shall finally see the sun.
