⛈ Rainfall Warning

A Sunday Reflection

Water pours from flat grey skies.

Although the land is parched and

oh so thirsty,

we grumble at the inconvenience

of wet upon wet upon wet.

I read in Isaiah’s book:

“You heavens above,

rain down my righteousness;

let the clouds shower it down,

let salvation spring up,

let righteousness flourish with it;

I, the LORD, have created it.”

Yet we grumble against any

inconvenient truths springing

from God’s righteousness

because our declarations of rightness

water our wishes just fine,

thank you very much.

For all our watering,

we remain soul-dry parched.

We thirst in the midst of

abundant, righteous rain.

🌿 I Saw A Farmer Today

He wore Wranglers tucked into black rubber boots,

a ball cap, although he probably never played ball.

He and his shovel worked the edge of thawing field,

carving exit routes for water needing to be evacuated.

My Grandpa wore rubber boots and a straw hat

when he shouldered his shovel as if it belonged there,

sauntered to his orchards or Granny’s big garden

early each morning and later each evening.

There, he systematically built dams, cleared trenches,

blocked ditches, directed water, controlled its journey

so fruit trees and vegetables could flourish

and never thirst in the heat of a Colorado summer.

I used to wonder if Grandpa ever grew weary of

his irrigation routine, found ditches a drudgery.

Because I thought that I would love this earth-bound work

so methodical, so peaceful, so life-giving.