All it’s cracked up to be

It’s dry here in the desert. At least, it feels like a desert. The earth is hard beneath my feet. It’s got big cracks in in. The dirt in the alley, anyways. And the dirt in the fields. And the dirt in the gardens. And when it rains the crevices just get deeper. When it rains hard the water sometimes sits on top and waits to seep in.

“That’s your heart” says God.

“Not mine!” I say back. And yet, I know He is right. “What a drag!” I think, slightly embarrassed and irritated.

Jeremiah 14:4 The ground is parched and cracked for lack of rain. The farmers are deeply troubled; they, too, cover their heads.

My heart has been parched and cracked for lack of “rain” as of late. Distraction comes easily and is not taken lightly. What have I missed during this time? Surely it’s been short. Two months? Two lifetimes? And yet, through all of this, mercy flows and things sprout. The onions suddenly have thick stalks. “Come pick some rhubarb,” the neighbour says. The potatoes are blooming. “They are Russian blues” he explains. The corn is waist high. And the fields are yellow and purple. Stunning against the sky. Mustard seeds, growing with harvest around the corner. The old man sits on his chair and calls my dog over for a pet. His eyes are clear blue.  He smiles, turns around and keeps digging and turning the soil. “Gotta get these weeds out.”

A new season is at hand and there is work to do. It’s time to dig in, push through and take it up a notch.

“That’s better,” He says. “Much better,” I think. “Come, follow me …”