Dry Spell
Our lawn crunches as we walk across. The clematis in the courtyard looks like we took a blowtorch to it. The roses soldier on, still managing to produce beautiful blooms. One hydrangea continues to thrive, while the leaves of the other bear marks that resemble cigarette burns.
Drought.
Rain has been scarce and temperatures high in our corner of the Shenandoah Valley this summer. Even the breeze provides no relief, blowing across our faces like the fan of a convection oven.
I expect tumbleweeds to arrive any day now.
A few days ago, a wayward bank of clouds rained on us for about five minutes. Mr. Pettit and I sat on the covered part of our deck and took in the show, stopping just short of the “oohs” and “ahs” whispered at fireworks displays. When the shower ended, we savored the lingering freshness in the air.
The cloudburst teased us, as when Mama let me eat a tiny bit of batter when she made chocolate cake.
More, please.
I long for a day of rain. I want to wake up to it and drink my coffee as I watch the raindrops bounce off the deck. I want to go to sleep to its steady beat.
Like the earth, I’m parched.
As our community baked this summer, I visited a personal desert, wandering and asking questions. Should I give up on my third novel? I’ve been stuck for ages, and I don’t want to succumb to the sunk cost fallacy, assuming that I must keep plugging away simply because I’ve spent so much time on the thing.
What does God want me to do, anyway? I realized years ago that I was called to be a writer. But has that calling expired? Is it time to take another path?
As I traveled deeper and deeper into myself (always a foolish excursion), the road became darker, as did the questions. Are You there, God? Well, yes, I know You are. I’m talking to You, after all. But why can’t I hear Your voice?
About this time my Dwell Scripture listening app suggested a plan for memorizing Psalm 107 in 14 days.
Why not?
The plan broke the psalm down into parts to be memorized each day. At the end of two weeks, voila! All 43 verses would be locked down in my brain.
Not so fast.
Literally.
I didn’t track how long it took for me to recite the psalm from memory, from beginning to end. This was intentional, because I knew my mid-century modern brain has passed its peak learning potential, and I didn’t want to become discouraged.
But I found joy and hope in the journey.
Psalm 107, titled “Let the Redeemed of the Lord Say So” in the English Standard Version, describes the tight and unpleasant places where we human beings find ourselves, whether we waltz in willingly or are shoved inside by others.
The second stanza begins this way:
Some wandered in desert wastes,
finding no way to a city to dwell in;
hungry and thirsty,
their soul fainted within them. (Verses 4 and 5, ESV)
Although I was not hungry for food or thirsty for water, the words rang out to me from across the centuries. I understood the longing for refreshment and revival. For a refuge, “a city to dwell in.”
The couplets in verses 6 and 8, which are repeated throughout the psalm, show the way forward:
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
and he delivered them from their distress.
and
Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,
for his wondrous works to the children of man! (ESV)
Those lines and the conclusion of the second stanza became my summer song:
For he satisfies the longing soul,
and the hungry soul he fills with good things. (Verse 9)
As I struggled to memorize this psalm, repeating the words over and over, again and again, its message soaked into my heart, and peace took root.
I’ve resumed work on my book, confident that God will reveal His plan for it. If it turns out to be a writing exercise, that’s fine. If He wants me to publish it, I’ll tackle that task when the time comes.
I’ve returned to the discipline of writing every day, committing that to the Lord’s hands as well. (Full disclosure: I’m writing almost every day.)
God alone holds the past, present, and future. I have only this moment, and I have a renewed awareness that He will not fail to show me how to use it.
In the glorious presence of the Trinity, there are no dry spells.
On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” Now this he said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive, for as yet the Spirit had not been given, because Jesus was not yet glorified. John 7:37-39 (ESV)
