A roofer in the summer. A lifeguard at the kiddies’ pool. A weather predictor any time. Since last week only a few drops have fallen except where disaster has happened and lives have been lost. I have to make my utterly unverified comments for today because that is where I am now. This moment needs another language. We are in a sequía whether in Spain or Houston, and are feeling die Langweile, a good German boredom which happens to mean the long wait.
These are phrases offered through the week to fan the flames of maybe. All are crafted to ignite a possibility of drops even if “in spots” might not include my back yard. Several times we have been offered the chance of “stray showers.” That makes me think of a cowed hound dog slinking under the porch to avoid being seen. The “chance of a scattered downpour” evokes a toddler trying to control a hose at full blast. I get no comfort from a storm “appearing in the pm” like the final act in a magic show. The least encouraging of all is offering only the one word “Humid!” That’s used for trying to weed at 8:00 am when the temperature is already 98 degrees. I admit, of all the verbiage, a “soft” rain is better than a tropical disturbance.
Between my writing and your reading is the flow of life. Day by day we really don’t always know the outcome even with the surety of percentages. So, back to waiting patiently, an active word. Prayer is part of the process, both for our relief and for support of those for whom water was not a blessing. Hebrew has the word Qavah – to wait, look for, expect whether those three words seek provision or protection. When our needs are met, we offer Merci or Agreto because we have done all we could and have been cared for. That step may even deserve a resounding Amen!
Wait for the Lord. Psalm 27:14
Let Me Tell Ya 