Friday, July 6, 2012

Thirsty for Rain

Clouds billow, thunder rolls... and the rain continues to mock us. Two light sprinkles - about as much as a morning's dew.


They say that in a couple weeks the tree leaves will start turning as brown as the grass is... and I think I just might believe them considering I've already started to see some traces. Autumn in July? It's not exactly what every farmer dreams of. Especially not when it means blistering heat records and no water...

We are thankful to be able to gravity feed our fields from our large pond, but others are not so blessed. If it weren't for our beautiful spring that pumps out over 30 gallons a minute I don't know but that our corn and sweet potatoes might be brown too. We are blessed to have water.


His voice hangs still in the blistering heat -

"Our culture has become so desensitized. I mean I used to be able to watch someone die and not even blink."

My friend continues to swish the collinear hoe through the dusty ground that surrounds our precious sweet potatoes and my heart gulps. Death. Desensitized to death...

He keeps on talking now, and I try to listen as my heart tries to understand.

"I used to carry other people's pain... but it became too painful and I stopped feeling altogether..."

Hearts that are dry... so dry. Dry like the dust under my feet. My friend has been there... and come through to life. Could it be that the opposite of love is simply the lack of it? Hearts so cold and dry... that even natural affection has melted away into complete blackness and solitude?

We move on while the blazing sun continues to beat down on our straw hats and the dust continues to puff under our hoes.


They say that it will need to rain oodles of bunches to be caught up to what would be considered normal. That's because the dust is so dry that water no longer penetrates... at least not easily.

And perhaps dry hearts need lots of water too... maybe even oodles and bunches.

Father, your people are thirsty - please send some rain...


  1. giving liquid...please pour it out on your dying children Father. And may I be a watering can...a channel of love.


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