Dear God, Can We Talk About the Rain?

Dear God,

Can we talk?  To be specific, can we talk about the rain?

Now, I know I prayed for rain last spring.  Lord, you know how much we needed it last year.  The fields were so dry.  We feared that the crops would be scorched and die, if they germinated at all.  Planting season was stressful, you recall, for all the farmers.  Sure, we appreciated being able to get into the fields easily and early, but it was hard to seed to moisture, because there was none.  And when the seeding was done, we prayed.  We fell on our knees and begged you for rain.  The whole community prayed for rain and every Sunday in church, rain was a prominent topic during the congregational prayer time.

Then the fires came.  You know better than anyone, Lord, how many fires burn in the boreal forest just north of my county each summer.  And of course you know better than any of us the important role those fires play in renewing the ecosystem.  But we on earth, we fear those fires, especially when they encroach on our homes.  I don't have to tell you about The Beast, Lord.  That fire crept up on Fort McMurray and the surrounding communities and left devastation in its wake.  You'll recall that I was at a Bible Study retreat at the time.  My family was safe, of course, since we live far away from where the fires were, but there was one girl at the retreat who got the call from her family that they had lost their home.  At the retreat, we all prayed for that family, and we prayed for rain.  Even though I was away from the farm, I was still begging you for rain.  Rain for the crops.  Rain to stop the fires.  Rain to bring hope.

And then it began to rain.  It wasn't enough for the crops.  Nor was it enough to stop the fires.  But it was enough to bring hope.

You remember Lord, probably better than I do, that as time went on, the rain kept coming.  Farmers began to rejoice, because we knew the crops would make it.  Even the fires were brought under control and the residents were allowed to return to their communities.

Still the rain came.  We began to joke that maybe we had prayed too much.  It was getting a bit frustrating to put up hay, because it wouldn't dry.  It just kept raining.

It rained, and rained, and rained.

Then the harvest came.

You blessed my family, Lord.  We got our crops off the fields, as well as all of our hay.  Most of our neighbours were not so fortunate.  Some got their crops harvested late in the year, when the ground was frozen, but as I drive through the county this spring, I can hardly bear to look at the fields.  So many crops are still out there.

We all thought the farmers would just get out into the fields and finish the harvest before planting.  It would be hard, but our neighbours would be okay.

But now, Lord, the rain just keeps coming.  When the rain stops, the snow comes back.  Dad says he's never seen so much mud on our yard.  We're wondering where on earth to put our cattle to get them out of the mud without tearing up the pastures.  And there's no way we'll get into the fields early.  We won't even get into the fields at the regular time.  It'll be a late planting season this year.

I'm trying hard not to complain, Lord.  I know that you are sovereign and in control.  I know that you understand our hurt and worry.  You see me every time I get stuck or fall in the mud (how many dozens of times has that happened this year?  You know the number).  You watched that day I harvested the potatoes in the garden in the rain and mud, throwing half of them back because they had rotted in the waterlogged soil.  You see how the cattle struggle to get through the mud and to stay dry and you see every vehicle that gets stuck in the mud.  You can count the fields that are completely submerged in water and every kernel of grain that has been lost.  Through all of this, you have a plan, though I don't know what it is.

They say this summer is supposed to be hot and dry.  How I want to fall on my knees and beg that it would be so!  But you aren't a short order cook or a weather fairy.  You are so much more than that.

All I ask is that you would work out your will down here on earth.  I know I'm allowed to ask that and I know that you give good blessings to your children.  I also know that often your best blessings come through hardship, because hardship teaches us to rely on you, instead of relying on our own strength.  We've had hardship, Lord.  Could you send the blessings?  Could you let us see your power in our everyday lives?  Could you let our neighbours make it through, even as they trust you for every need?

I'd like the rain to stop, Lord, but I'd rather you send your blessings,
whatever those look like.

In the name of Your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who is our Hope,

Amen.

I got the swather stuck on the first day of harvest last year.  Can you see the water sitting in the barley?