October 11: The first drops of rain are lightly tapping on the tin roof of our bamboo hut and are beginning to stir up the dust within my soul.
October 14: The rain is steady; unrelenting yet gentle. The Gardener has coaxed little green sprouts from the earth, and He turns His attention to the fragile tendrils as they yawn and sleepily stretch their roots into the ever-softening ground.
October 28: Weeks have come and gone. The Earth slings around the sun at a dizzying pace and time sprints to keep up. The rain has not remained. The earth begins to dry and the young plants shift uncomfortably in their seats as they try to remember a time when the rain would fall for days at a time. The Gardener, however, is not phased. Still standing amongst His garden, His eyes lift to the dark clouds forming on the horizon and His ears pick up the hushed murmur of distant thunder.
November 4: Blustery winds from the East and the West are now whipping through the garden carrying rumors of destruction and whispers of breakthrough. Will the coming storm bring death or life? By now, though, the plants have elaborate root systems and are unwavering as they hold fast to the earth. They remember the Gardener’s promise that rain would soon fall again. Suddenly the sky lights up with an electric brilliance unlike anything the plants had ever seen. Thunder claps loudly and the whole garden shakes in nervous anticipation. The Gardener smiles on his garden as He watches the fulfillment of His promise unfold.
November 18: Weeks have come and gone. The Gardener walks through His garden and gently strokes the leaves of His Creation. His toes dig into the earth and He can barely remember the dry, cracked ground that had once been here. Where there had once been few signs of life, there are now fruit trees with branches bending under the weight of sweet redemption. The plants lean in closely as He passes by. They breathe in His breath and let out a sigh of relief—not because there will never be another drought, but because the Gardener is faithful and has taken up residence within the garden itself. “If only I had realized,” thinks the garden, “He has been here all along.”
“O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands.”
[Psalm 63:1-4]