Beyond the Drought

We have entered into another season of drought at the ranch.  We have gone at least two months since any rainfall has landed on our ground at the ranch.  It has been scarce everywhere, but even the last storm where some around us got a tiny taste, we received not a drop.  The county is under a burn ban, we have discontinued our yearly mowing of the acreage, in fear of a spark starting a grass fire, and everything is so dry the grass is letting go at the roots. 

We are in a time of longing and waiting.

We are longing for rain to nurture our land, fill our ponds, and relieve our fears of the potential for our worst nightmare  of grass fires, as landowners with beloved livestock.  We are longing for the smell of rain, the green of the pastures that only rain can bring, and the sense of cleansing that comes to everything from a good, long rain.

Today, as I set out looking across the thirsty land, staring into the sky at the faux rain clouds that seem to be taunting me, I find myself reflecting on how much the seasons of weather immolate seasons of life.

How often, in our personal lives, are we in seasons of longing and waiting?

A couple, longing to become parents…but waiting.  A mother and father longing for healing for their child… but waiting.  A cancer patient longing for a cure… but waiting.  A jobless person longing for a yes... but waiting.  A lonely person longing for connection… but waiting.  A person with PTSD longing for relief… but waiting.  An addicted person longing to not crave… but waiting. 

 So many things create a season of waiting where the drought seems harsh, relentless, and unending.  Life is hard.  Life can be cruel.  Life can seem so unfair.  It can seem everyone around you is getting rain, but you are stuck in the dying drought. It is in those seasons when we most need a plan for our emotional and mental well-being, but often when we realize we are most lost without a plan at all.  We are caught off guard.  Exposed.  Then we see those taunting clouds that seem to be mocking us and we crumble, wondering will it ever be okay. 

The thing is, when we are in the middle of it, is when it is hardest to find our hope.  We are surviving the hard and that doesn’t leave a lot of space for figuring out how to thrive.

However, it is also a time to realize we need support.  Sometimes someone just sitting with us in the hard gives us enough strength to get to the next step.  Then the next, then the next.  Eventually, we reach a place where hope is coming closer and those same taunting clouds start to look less like taunting enemies, and more of a hope that because clouds are still in the sky, there is hope that one day rain will fall from them again.  That little shift can change everything.

 So, if you are in a season of drought, where you feel the drought may never end, and the clouds are simply there to taunt you, now is the time to allow someone to sit with you in the hard, and help you get to the next step until those clouds feel like hope ahead. 

 I don’t know when rain will come again for us at the ranch, but those clouds, though today we have 0% chance of rain again, remind me that someone may get rain today and one day, we will be that someone.  Until then, we will hold on to hope, do what we can in the drought to be safe, and remember fondly the green pastures rolling out in our memories that will return when the first drop falls and the drought gives way to refreshment and renewal.  That day will be even sweeter because we made it through the drought.

Sincerely,

Robin