I Can’t Control the Rain
Each evening I take a walk by the gully, around the back of the school property. Sometimes, lightning flashes on the horizon, and rain clouds threaten. After a hard rain, the mud shrivels as it dries, leaving a curled-edge puzzle scattered across the gully flats. The desert sun beats down and dries the clay-like mud that shatters if you toss or step on it.
This year seems different. The monsoons came late and the desert has a crispy edge to it. Plants have stayed dormant from the spring drought and lack of late summer rain. My life feels a little like the desert right now. Dry, but expectant.
I question why I write when my words skitter across cyberspace and shatter silently, impact unknown. My edges feel crispy from self-promotion and trying to figure out things like SEO and platform. I can’t control the impact of my words with so little time to dedicate to their nourishment.
I cling to my dream amidst the quotidian desert of cleaning, cooking, and laundry. My family and my students bring me joy, but I yearn for more. Writing fills the cracks in my days, but I long to have it be my days. If only I had time to focus and grow.My dreams want to burst forth...out of season. I need to learn to wait for HIS season. #itsallundercontrol #amwriting Click To Tweet
Finding the Season
The rain has come twice in the past two weeks—drenching downpours that turn the gully into a chute for raging waters. The waters rip clay from earth and carry boulders downstream. On my walk last night, I almost stepped on a tiny flowering bush.
The plant had burst forth with nine gorgeous yellow flowers suspended over scrawny spikes of green. I hunched down to snap a photo before the fading light disappeared. Rain, so destructively powerful, yet so nourishing, can produce miracles overnight.
The verse from Leviticus came to mind. “I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crops and the tress their fruit.” (Leviticus 26:4)
The rain has a season of its own. I don’t (and can’t) control it. Only God decides when the season has arrived. God is in control. This morning, I once again lay my dreams and aspirations at his feet. I plant, he grows. Until my season comes, I learn to wait patiently—taking root and tapping deep. He will direct my path and my roots—I just have to remember to give up control.
(Thank you to my wise friend Jennifer Dukes Lee for writing It’s All Under Control: A Journey of Letting Go, Hanging On, and Finding a Peace You Almost Forgot Was Possible. I’m thinking in whole new ways about how my need for control gets in God’s way.) (If you click on that link, it will take you to Amazon, and I am an Amazon partner).