Bring On The Rain

I discovered another blog today. The author's name is Angie Smith. Her husband, Todd, sings in a Christian band called "Selah". So far, I've only read her latest three blogs and the few she wrote in January. I realize I'm not being very original in sharing what other people write rather than writing for myself, but I don't feel like I have quite the gift with words that others do. Angie's blog is called "Bring the Rain". You'll find the link in the sidebar of my favorite blogs.

I love reading other people's testimonies about how they hear God's Word and apply it to their daily struggles in life. I relate so well to this story of Angie's below... lately, I have been gravitating toward songs about rain (check out MercyMe's "Bring the Rain" and needtobreathe's "Washed by the Water" noted in my sidebar) and how the rain relates to our lives and how cleansing the rain can be. I also really like JoDee Messina's "Bring on the Rain". I guess God's way of talking to me today is by bringing me across Angie's blog and the post I've copied below.

Thinking about all these rain metaphors takes me back to one of my favorite childhood memories... I was about 6 or 7... whenever there was a summer rain storm (without lightening!), my mom, younger brother, and I would strip down to our skivvies and go running out into the yard, dancing around a tree, singing in the rain, laughing so hard and enjoying life to the fullest. Dad would stand on the porch, shaking his head in wonderment or astonishment at our craziness. There was no such thing as sadness or pain at those times.

I continue to maintain some of that childlike wonder with most things in life and still savor a good rain to this day... especially the rainbows at the end of a storm! However, I've also noticed as I've aged that I use an umbrella with a lot more frequency. Why is that? It's not like I'm going to melt! With each rain drop, I actually become a little stronger. I have to wonder if there's a correlation between the extremely late rainy season we've been having and the passing of one of the most painful years of my life. I still struggle so much with this pain of infertility and I wish to high heaven that I had an umbrella to keep from drowning in it somedays, but it's all a part of my testimony. Someone in my IF support group said that without the test, there would be no testimony. I would not be who I am today, with the testimony that I'm beginning to share, without having been drenched by the rain and standing strong through the thunderstorms as I have. Hopefully, God is sprinkling some Miracle Grow into my "soil" (soul) and fertilizing me so that His showers will bring forth flowers of amazing beauty.

Here is Angie's entry for January 25, 2008, talking about a trip she and her family took to Ireland for one of her husband's concerts a year earlier:

This flight was followed by another that was just as lovely. As we descended into Belfast, the plane jumped around enough to spill drinks and rattle trays, and I shot a dirty look in the direction o a five year old with the audacity to laugh like we were on a kiddy roller coaster and not a hurling, bucking air-bronco. In the midst of my panic, I was mesmerized by how green it was. I had forgotten the way Ireland looks from the air... just like a postcard.

When we landed, I was actually tempted to kiss the tarmac.

Norman picked us up at the airport and we began our trip through the countryside. This is a sidebar, but MAN are their cars small. As we navigated the windy roads, up and down, left and right, the jet-lag started to catch up with me. As I drifted off to sleep, I heard Norman telling stories about the political uprising in Northern Ireland.

"Many people have lost their lives... such horrible warfare..."

I struggled to see the green hillside through my heavy eyelids as he continued.

"It is just such a struggle... such devastation..."

I met his eyes in the rear-view mirror and suddenly, a question I hadn't really even composed in my mind escaped my mouth.

"Norman, how is the grass so green here?" It came out sounding like I was a third grader in science class, but God used it to teach me a life-long lesson.

"Oh, that's easy, love. We get a lot of rain here!" Everyone smiled and I finally closed my eyes.
The following day, our children got so sick that we had to call a doctor to the hotel room. He was about 70 years old, and came complete with a black leather bag full of medical gear from the middle ages, bifocals, and the thickest, most gorgeous accent you have ever heard. He gave us some "tablets" for what were now near 105 degree fevers, and he left while we discussed the fact that we had fallen into a lost episode of "Little House on the Prairie." We all thanked God as their fevers broke a few hours later, and we settled into sleep, all huddled in the same bed, looped around each other like threads in a quilt.

In the middle of the night, I heard the voice of God.

It was one of the very few times that I felt like He was audibly speaking to me. I sat up straight in my bed.

Thoughts rushed through my mind like a slideshow at a speed I could not control. I was reminded of the pilot's voice, the thermometer that read in celsius, the storm clouds, the political wars... all of it, like a movie, and then just a few words.

"It takes a lot of rain to make the grass this green."

I started crying like a child. In a foreign country, in the middle of the night, in the midst of facing my greatest fears, God taught me a lesson about life that has inspired the name of this blog (Bring the Rain).

In the span of a few minutes, I committed to God that I would stop praying for sunshine and start welcoming whatever made the soil rich.

And so, a year later, here I sit. Many of you have asked how I am so strong. The answer is that I am not strong, but my God is, and He is in battle for me. My end of the deal is held up by praising the One who has chosen me to walk this. And I do.