The summer of 2012 was one of the hottest and driest times I had ever witnessed since moving to Middle Tennessee in 2004. That Spring, barely any precipitation had fallen. The ground was so parched that patches of dirt began to appear in what had seemed from summers gone by, to be a never-ending lush of green. On Independence Day that year, a rogue Roman Candle caused much excitement for our family as it blazed a streak of fire across our lawn.
But for the past two summers, we have had a LOT of rain. So much so, it feels like we no longer live in Middle Tennessee but now reside in the tropics. Tree frogs, crawling up the outside of our house, are more the norm than not. Soaking showers, gulley-washers, and soft mists, seeming to be non-stop have made this July one of the greenest we’ve seen.
So it was odd to me—it truly did stun me—when my friend and neighbor, whose family had been dairy and hay farmers since the mid-1950s, announced the other day, “We surely need the rain.” I could hardly believe those words were coming out of her mouth. But in continuing to listen, rainfall, unless it is more perpetual than not, will not do the trick. The wet and gray which from my viewpoint had seemed to be constant—making me feel like mold was creeping up my walls at record pace—was to her, barely sufficient.
Her words, were not lost on me as I began to think on the truth of what she had said. Rain one day, followed by days without, will never be enough. The same holds true concerning food and water. Without both of those, we would eventually perish. But what about those things less tangible? Do we give them the same needed attention? I don’t think we do. Friendships, even relationships among family members, taken for granted or no longer nurtured, can fade and be lost when some sort of connection is not maintained. And our relationship with God, if not tended to, can become so distant, it feels nonexistent. Continue reading