A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves.
NEWSFLASH! We can't control rain! Maybe you were already aware of that critical fact. You'd think someone who not only took, but aced, college meteorology would understand it as well, wouldn't you? I did, at least in theory, until we became yard people.
I think the problem started with the first time we saw our house. It was June. All the yards in the neighborhood looked beautiful, skillfully cared for and nurtured. Little did I know about all the time, work and expense that went into making those yards beautiful.
Moving in during the July, all we worried about was mowing and raking TONS of leaves. So much for being thrilled to have mature trees for the first time ever.
Our first spring was one of discovery even though thoughtless me had knee surgery that included physical therapy for most of the summer. Discovery number one, being a yard person means a LOT of knee bending. We also discovered not all flowers grow everywhere, and the darn things need all kinds of attention, you know like regular watering.
Well, dah! And I'd forgotten to read the neighborhood newsletter reminding homeowners that since we don't control the rain, we may have to water the plants ourselves. What! You mean it takes more than just putting plants and flowers in some dirt?
Okay, so by summer two we actually bought a watering can and even remembered to water that year's crop once in a while. Great! Fewer casualties due to thirst, but who knew about "full sun", "partial sun" and "shade" on the plant spikes?
Super! Now I had to worry about the right amount of water AND the right amount of sun. So I learned to pay attention to those innocuous little spikes in the plants at Lowes.
I thought I was finally getting the hang of the whole gardening thing. Or I was until the year spring came the first of March and summer was in full force by early May. Good grief! Why did the rules keep changing.
By now, I'd learned about waiting on the rain once the plants were in dirt. That year, though, we learned about waiting on the rain before planting. Did you ever try to dig holes in concrete? Well, maybe not exactly concrete, but it sure seemed like it!
After losing plants the year before because I got a little impatient and put flowers out before Mother's Day (incidentally, I never heard that midwest rule until last year), while I was biding my time that very early spring, the ground was drying out like the Sahara.
Here's the biggest thing I've learned. I love looking out the window or our front door or on the deck at the explosion of colors and sizes and shapes. And knowing I had a little part of their blooming brings me joy. And if experiencing that joy means sometimes waiting on the rain, I'm good with that.
And waiting for the rain has also taught me that in life, no matter how much we think differently, there will always be some things we can't control. I can either fight it, or accept it. What works for me is to accept and enjoy waiting on the rain, and be thankful for the One who brings it.
This post is being linked to Giving Up on Perfect and Coffee for Your Heart.
10 You pour rain on the plowed fields; you soak the fields with water.
You make the ground soft with rain, and you make the young plants grow.