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I saw raindrops. On my windshield!

It was a brief and very light shower, but it did happen. It’s difficult to control my innate sense of sarcasm that fits so well with the hard, dry ground. It seems like a thimble full of water on the tongue of a man dying in the desert. But I found myself grateful and praying, “Thank you, Lord, but please let it continue.”

It lasted a few minutes and within a couple of hours one could hardly find evidence that it had rained at all. But I noticed something that kind of took me by surprise.

Back in the spring, I planted several daisies in our flower bed. My beloved has an affinity for daisies, so that’s what I planted. I was particularly enthused because they’re perennials – so they should come back year after year. I planted some other things as well, but the daisies were of particular importance to me. One of my boys has had the responsibility to soak the flowerbeds daily in order to protect the investment I have made in these plants. With rare exception, these plants have received some watering every day through this long, blistering drought.

The daisies remained green, for the most part, but quit blooming and seemed to be sort of on hold. But I noticed that, just a few hours after this brief shower, there were flowers blooming again on the daisies.

You see, no matter how much I try to water and feed and preserve my plants, there is nothing that brings the response that a simple, God-given rain brings. It makes me wonder what kind of shape my plants would be in if we had experience a nice soaking rain once or twice a week for the whole summer. I can only imagine.

These beautiful blooms stir up a longing in my soul for more. As I rejoice in the drops of God’s love and mercy falling now and again around me, there is a craving for the showers of blessing – floods of God’s working among us to soften and prepare hard hearts, to plant the gospel deep in them, to bring the seed to sprout as these hearts receive the new life, to bring those seedlings to full and fruitful maturity.

And so, a hunger begins to grow in my own heart. It bubbles up in a simple but earnest prayer.

O God, let it rain.