It rained last night, after a week of unseasonably hot and windy weather. Though the flower beds looked good – the peonies heavy with blooms, the iris all sweet perfume and color, the daisies cheerful and crowded along the west fence – the ground was rock hard beneath them. I gave in to gardener worry. Am I going to have to water every day between now and Anne’s wedding on July 11. Will the flowers be past their prime by then? Will the lawn be brown and crunchy?
Yesterday, as my worries escalated, storm clouds gathered in the west and north. The sky grew dark, the temperature dropped, lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and the rain came. Not in sheets, but in showers, all through the night. Enough to wash away the dust on every leaf and blossom, enough to put the hose to rest at least for Memorial Day.
The air was fresh and cool along the gravel road while I walked, everything the bright green that comes after rain and lightning. The birds sang as my spirit drank in the beauty, and I wondered why God has allowed us to live in such loveliness when so many go without it.
I walked up the driveway, and the sweetness of the daisies welcoming the sun as it peeked over the treetops made my heart swell with gladness. Are the raindrops still clinging to them? Could I find one and take a picture?
I approached them hopefully, and immediately saw one droplet tenaciously clinging to a flower. Then I checked the fence to see if there were more, but no. Just one, out of hundreds of blossoms. Just one.
God, you have heard my prayer and answered with undeserved grace yet again. You have made me brave to presume upon your kindness once again. We need just one bright day in July, not too hot and not too humid. When I called, You provided one raindrop on one daisy out of hundreds. Could you give my sweet daughter and her husband one day? Just one?
