If you faint in the day of trouble,
your strength is small! (Proverbs 24:10)
On day twenty-six of rain, I hid behind the window, brooding over the wetness of my forest playground. Every green bough dripped water. Glass beads swelled, then fell to the ground, where they joined the soggy mat of last year’s pine needles. And still, the drops continued—shaped like millions of exclamation points taunting, “We’re not done yet.”
The trees didn’t complain. They anticipated the coming summer, held their arms wide, and said, “We’ll take all you’ve got, thank you.”
Even less daunted was a fat squirrel, merrily scurrying to the pinecones, and nibbling seeds. She didn’t seem to realize it was raining.
The rest of creation puts me to shame when it comes to resilience in adversity. God must wag his head at the frailty of my heart. Weather happens. It’s normal. Storms of pain, change, even death are part of the system I was born into. So why does losing my rights shock me? Even too much rain upsets my delicate equilibrium.
Taken as the totality of events, I could understand crumbling under earthly suffering. But good days follow bad ones. I’m given whatever strength I need to continue through inclement times. If all my days were filled with pain, they would still only constitute a short season. Summer follows winter in the physical, and in the spiritual realms. Paradise will swallow the earth’s winter.
Nature looked through the window, saw me dry and warm, and said, “Buck up Buttercup. You'll make it through with the Lord.”
Prayer: Savior, I will rest in your timing for making things right.