As I sit inside on this dreary day watching The Weather Channel, I keep repeating to myself, “When will the rain ever end?” I have never in 60 years witnessed so much rain! Rain, rain, please go away!
Sound familiar? I bet most of you are thinking or saying the same thing or something close to it. It has been a season of catastrophic storms, never-ending rain, and flooding. Never have I ever!
Well, I am going to have to retract that last statement. Because apparently, I have. We all have.
As I was reading over some of my past Two Old Crows posts, I came across one written two years ago. How could I have forgotten all of the rain that year? Thinking back, that WAS the year that I witnessed the young lady paddling a kayak down our street. Funny how my mind forgot, or temporarily covered with cobwebs, the events of that very rainy season.
I tend to forget many things that seemed so monumental at the time they were occurring. I don’t remember a lot of happenings that I, in one moment, labeled life-altering.
Looking back, I have realized that today, these things have no bearing whatsoever on my life at the present.
So, what can I surmise from this? My Bible and my mama were absolutely right: To everything there IS a SEASON. Not a lifetime; a SEASON. A teeny-tiny twinkling of time.
I am grateful that I had a chance to go back in time, by way of my written words, for it enabled me to remember periods of time I had forgotten. It made me recognize that even though 2020 has been filled with waters and winds, that this too shall pass. I leave you with my thoughts from 2018, so that you too will realize this season will soon be forgotten.
As I write this, my eyes turn from the written word on the page to the window next to me. As I gaze out the window, I realize the recent monsoonal season across the South has caused my back yard to become a virtual swampy wilderness. The grass is almost lime in color and the blades now reach far above my ankles. The John Deere tractor sits covered underneath a tarp. Due to the mass amounts of water at the back of our house, there is no sign it will come out of hiding anytime in the near future. The lush green tomato plants I was so proud of a month ago have changed to the colors of muddy brown and jaundiced yellow. The recent harsh winds that accompanied the deluge of rainfall have caused the owl on my window sill, the one with the bobbling head that at first used to frighten away birds from our strawberries, to turn his large, golden eyes toward me. His face seems to have changed somewhat since he was placed there in early May. It looks as though he is saying with a mime’s voice, “Please! Let me in! Just let me in!”
The birds at my home, lovingly named Ashley Cottage, have spent a great deal of time sitting UNDER the porch instead of frolicking to and fro. The weather has been so bad, they do not even attempt to pick the strawberries out of the hanging baskets anymore. The bird feeders are clogged and need to be cleaned and changed, but alas, the weather has not permitted me to take on this laborious challenge as of late. Besides, until the clouds subside for multiple days, it would be a fruitless endeavor and one that would have to be repeated after every rain.
In all of my 58 years, I have never seen it rain so much or so often. My poor home state of Texas has been ravaged with flood waters, as have the majority of the other Southern states. The Red River is mighty and high, and the closing of major bridges and thoroughfares has become commonplace. Ranchers are moving their cattle to higher ground and farmers are mourning the loss of their crops.
Even worse, people are weeping over the loss of loved ones due to the deadly weather. Tornadoes have hit hard in the past months, and even today, there are multiple warnings being broadcast over the airways. To top it off, the locusts are in rare form this year, and together, their haunting and eerie voices sound more like Martians invading than anything of nature. Yes, this has been a strange and unusual season.
But it is, after all, a season, and in my mother’s words, “This too shall pass.” Brighter days are coming and soon, the scorching summertime sun will be shining down upon us. And if I know humans, we will be complaining about the sweltering heat and the mass of malaria carrying mosquitoes. We will be begging for the smallest drop of rain and complaining about wilting flowers and dying shrubberies. The roadways will emit a steady stream of sultry steam, and the air will be so thick breathing becomes a chore. A multitude of army worms and grasshoppers will replace the screeching locusts and ticks will return with a vengeance. That too, will be but a season.
As I ponder this Earth and its many changes, I have determined two things: Humans can never be satisfied, and God is in control. Yes, HE is in control. He controls not only the forces of nature, but every aspect of our lives.
Though we do not always understand why things happen as they do, we must all believe it is all part of His great plan. He is the Absolute Architect. He is the bigger than any storm and stronger than the rising tides. HE is in complete control.
So, during this season, I will continue to praise Him in the rain, and when the next season blazes in, I shall praise Him in the sun. When the winter wind whisks itself in, I will praise Him in the cold, and when the flowers begin to bloom, I will praise Him in the sweet spring.
In all things, and seasons, I will praise Him.
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