letting go...{day 3}

 

so we buy a home and move in officially on the very first of june and i remember how i woke up to the sound of rain on the roof while the sky was still dark that night.

it seemed like a blessing of sorts, because He knows how much i love the rain.


and then the sky seemed to dry up. didn't let go of one drop for four long months and we finally let our yard go because i couldn't keep up and he was changing jobs and this little one changing the shape of me kept me in a state of green and i'm sure whatever colour that lawn lost was somehow permanently transferred to my face.


temperatures climbing up past 100 and the lack of moisture quickly turn what was thriving and growing into something brittle and bleached and it hurt to look at.

he heard that fall is a good time to seed, just before the cold of winter comes and spring is still so far away and i stand at the kitchen window and watch as he walks around the yard scattering grass seed while the rain is coming down in sheets.

he keeps sowing while the rain keeps pouring and by the time he looks up at me and catches my eye, that hood pulled up over his head isn't really needed anymore.


our lives can look a bit like that.

or...more accurately, mine can at least.


life can seem so full of blessing until suddenly that sky above is void of any moisture, any relief from the unrelenting heat of the sun.

death sneaks in and steals someone we love...

families are broken apart and that breech lays open, aching for someone to cross over...

words are spoken that can never be taken back...

friendships drift apart and no one knows how to close that gap...

misunderstandings spark an anger that can rage for a lifetime...


and suddenly, all that is left is a shell dry and brittle with patches here and there that are worn down to dirt by feet that carelessly run over.


it can hurt to look at,

hurt to be near,

and it can seem like irreparable damage has been done and what once was green with life will always be this dark and dull and you can either rip it all up,

give up hope and accept that this is how it will always look,


or you can fill your hands with a hope barely breathing in the waiting and release it into ground parched and hardened when the heat is done scalding and the cold winds begin to blow in...


because this whole summer?  while my body has been swelling with a girl-baby that is now stretching and climbing up my ribs deep in the dark of me, i have been desperately waiting for autumn.

i  knew the rain would come back.


i knew that to walk through each hot, dry day would bring the relief of cooler weather and the beauty of jeweled leaves and cozy blankets and warm fires to sip hot cocoa by.

the last two months, He has been asking me to let go of a number of things...


my wish for family has been one of them.


that part of my heart has been dry and brittle and bleached fragile for a while.

and it seems that whenever my heart would lift up my broken to Him, the heat would come even stronger and soon, it felt that there was nothing left to do but let it all go...

let the hot winds blow and ride it all out

and keep my eyes on that sky wide and blue and void of any clouds.


and I see Him now, sowing the hope that i let go of in all those worn and dirt-filled places.


the landscape doesn't look the same,

i don't think that what will grow up in those places will look like what i expected,


but in lifting open hands to Him, and allowing Him to take what i had clenched so tightly, He is using those bruised and broken prayers to raise something beautiful up.



and the rain?

i stand with hands outstretched under clouds that are letting go and leaving me drenched...

o God, You are my God,

earnestly i seek You;

my soul thirsts for you

my body longs for you,

in a dry and weary land 

where there is no water.

i have seen You in the sanctuary

and beheld Your power

and Your glory.

because Your love is better than life,

my lips will glorify You.

psalm 63:1-3