Out Back

My dear husband, is so patient and kind. I have that artist temperment can really go a bit over the top now and then. He goes along with all my wild plans and helps me create the dream that I long for. Part of that dream is to have organic vegetables and fruit in our very own back yard. You may say what the big deal about planting a few fruit trees, grapevines and a blueberry bush or two. The big deal comes in the form of beautiful slender legs and big brown eyes. The deal is this not one or two of these graceful beautys but dozens of Whitetale Deer. They have made our home their home. We live in a small town that has lovely yards that run into one another, very park like. A perfect safe location to raise fawns, a place of peace to graze on all the ornamental shurbs, exotic flowers and loaded fruit trees, deer heaven. Now here in lies the problem I am not a born and raised city slicker. I was raised on a farm, in the country, I was raised the old way. There was a natural order to things. A matter of fact way of looking at nature. We were here to toil in the soil. We had fences to keep our livestock out of our yards, out of our gardens. We would promptly get rid of any rouge animals. They were given atleast two chances to behave themselves, once they had escaped their fields, after that off to market they went. The third escape was the last big hoorah.

So, maybe you can imagine the dilemma that my dear husband and I find ourselves in. We want healthy cheap produce but at the same time we must spend much energy, expense and time to rectify a defense fence. So that is what we did today we planted our grapevine and our blueberry bushes. They are surrounded by a tall fortress of chicken wire and painted lattice on top of that. We have a nice sized outdoor room. So that one frustrated farmer can have a litte of the joy of the family farm and one extremely tolerant husband can have a little peace bought at a high price. We I stopped and think about all my dear husband has done to help my dream sprout I realize how much he must love me.

When I was a little girl and it would rain in the summer time I would always ask my mother if I could go out and play in the rain. Many times she would say no not this rain, it is not the right kind of rain. After many times of the wrong kind of rain, the right rain would come. My mother would let me run out and dance in that warm summer shower.

This rain was a joy. I would dance barefoot in the soggy grass. My feet felt warm and the rain would swish up and over my eager toes. I would laugh and toss my wet hair around in the falling treasure. How refreshed and glorious were those rare summer showers that released the joy in a small girl.

I long for such a rain again I want to ask not my earthly mother but my heavenly Father if I can go dance in that refreshing rain. I want to wash away all pretense and pride. I want to be like a small child that rejoices in the warm summer rain of our Heavenly Father’s love and holiness.

Come Lord rain on me. Come Lord rain on this church. Come Lord rain, come Lord reign.