Here in Georgia, the weather has been perfection for the last month. Glorious fall days with temperatures in the 60s and low 7os. Gentle breezes sending leaves spinning from the trees in showers of red and gold and green. On days like this it feels almost criminal to stay inside. And so we have ventured out more this past month than all year. Visiting parks and taking walks. Throwing ourselves into crunchy piles of leaves and lying flat our our backs to look up the contrast of the blue sky through the red leaves. Playing soccer and basketball and football in crispy brown grass. Thinking how heavenly it would be, if it could last forever.
And yet, therein lies the irony. It has lasted for months, and we have paid a significant price in return. In Georgia we are in the midst of the worst drought in our history. All outdoor watering is banned. We cannot wash our cars or preserve the life of our trees. Showers have been shortened as we watch in unfamiliar fear, as our drinking supply ebbs dangerously close to nothing. What will happen if it's exhausted? I don't think anyone really knows.
It paints a picture for me, of how imperative balance is in life. I cannot count how often I have heard people pray for the absence of rain: to prevent flooding, to enjoy a lovely day planned outdoors, to ease travelling, even to win or lose a sporting event. And yet, all throughout Georgia, people are now praying for the skies to open up. For day after day of earth soaking rains. Because we cannot live without it. Because balance is a requirement for life to continue.
It's representative I think, of our own need for duality. As much as we hate to admit it, isn't our joy incumbent on a certain amount of pain or sadness for it's existence? Without this dichotomy wouldn't we also become dull and parched and fade from life? Is it possible that we should thank God for our disappointments simply because of their power to define our delights?
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It's supposed to rain. In fact, the forecast for this week calls for rain five out of the next seven days. We won't be venturing outside to revel in the sunshine. Our leaves will become a sodden, brown mess. We will cover our heads, and pies, and children and run for doorways. And yet, we will not complain. We will be thankful for the rain in a way we have not been before. Because we have new perspective, and sunshine, without rain, it's simply incomplete.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: Eccl. 3:1
I am taking the day off tomorrow. Not from gratitude, but from blogging. To focus on family and food and our loving Father whom I am grateful for most of all. Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. This blog brings me much joy and I count you high in my blessings.