IT'S NOT RAINING - yet

Recently my hubby and I helped our youngest son plant a garden plot.  The afternoon was windy and clouded over as we drove 1 ½ hours to his home.  As we arrived large drops of rain randomly splashed - one here – another there – not enough to be noticed unless one hit you dead on – then you might wonder where the water came from or if it might rain; but you might be missed 
– and then there was a break and the sun came out.

He showed me his overgrown but beautiful white and purple lilac bushes lining the property.  I showed him how to hoe the rows and commented, “I sure hope we don’t get wet.”

He matter-of-factly replied, “It’s not going to rain.”

The next time I made a weather related comment a slow drip, drip drop of sprinkling had begun.  I was worried.  This was our one shot, only available time to get the job done. He again told me not to worry.  Emphatically he said, “Mom – believe – it is not going to rain.”  The sprinkling stopped and the steady breeze dried us to only damp.  He was right.   The dirt still had dust under a skim of moist soil.  We continued to plant. 

He hoed, I tossed down seeds in the rows and Papa covered them with soil – or some variation of that rotation.  The drip, drip drop started again – steadily this time.  I grimly refused to comment another time.  The weather itself would settle the matter and I was already damp.  The water that formed into droplets and fell from my hair onto my royal blue, gardening over-shirt or ran down my neck occasionally was indistinguishable from the spreading, darkening (to a bright navy) as the shirt became wet enough to start to seep through to my t-shirt.

Funny etched looking, dry footprints walked behind each of us as our feet picked up enough of the shallow mud layer to make thick clods that could be shaken off after a few steps. We were almost finished. While I planted a watermelon, and tomato and pepper sets they dug in several rows of pre-cut seed potatoes.  Corn, carrot, pea, bean, pumpkin, lettuce and cucumber seeds lay nicely ordered in rows marked at each end with small stones that had tilled to the surface during soil preparation.  I felt smug at how our persistence might pay dividends; if the rain continued, the dry seeds would be soaked with no effort on our part at no cost to us.

Rainy gusts alternated with random misty sprinkles. While Papa put away tools and finished the last details, my son and I headed for the front and side flower beds to place a few flower seeds.  (Someone had given him quite a few packages of seeds and we had also transplanted some spaghetti squash starts someone had provided.)  As we opened the seemingly frivolous flower seeds the sky also seemed to open.  Quickly we buried the seed and ran to the car but it was too late.  I peeled off my dripping over-shirt.  It was wet enough to wring water from its long twill tails.

We laughed – that previous little bit of sprinkling wasn’t rain.
This was rain!

As we drove away to look at some nicely pruned lilacs we had seen across town

the windshield of the car looked like the stream from a fire hose was washing over it.  The wipers at their fastest speed could not keep up.  We drove slowly and chuckled.  It hadn’t rained; at least not until we had finished the requisite gardening.  My heart was full of thanks.  God had stilled a storm even as I doubted and mentally muttered.

My attitude thought I was enduring rain.  Then the weather settled the matter – and watered the garden too. Pounding rain continued the rest of the evening. I felt humbled.  

When we returned home we could see the wind had displaced many things in our area and significant moisture had fallen.  The next morning we heard news reports of a small tornado that twisted the barn of a local farmer into a heap.

God had indeed stilled a genuine storm.  He knows our every need.  And we always can trust Him to know what is best for each of us.  My own attitude is the real difference.

Has it rained on you yet?

(Sure - it may have a tornado in it.)