Drought

The sky was grey, and the air thick, as if we were trapped inside the folds of a heavy wool quilt. It was hard to breathe. I counted each intake, aware of my life. I existed moment by moment, breath by breath. But I was alive. The earth around me was nearly dead. Even in this heat it no longer cried out for water, but lay silent and limp, allowing the wind to slowly strip it of its clothing.

But even the wind was weak. At times in the past it had roared over the land, lifting the earth and carrying it away, miles and miles to other places; sprinkling it in other lands. But like a glutton at a banquet it was finally done. Satisfied for now. It moped around, lifting little dust pools and picking over the dry leaves of the trees; gnawing at a bit of bark or rattling a piece of iron and then subsiding again.

I breathed in. I breathed out.

In the distance I heard a low growl. The wind sat up and looked around. I sat up too.

In the far distance a little shiver of light stroked the sky and was gone. A heavier heaviness seemed to be gathering. It magnified the sky’s grey heat, making it harder and hotter and more bright, like glass. Or maybe it was just my impression. The hope of that single sound and the light that had revealed itself made me suddenly aware of the months and months of waiting and the crying out. I remembered how I had watched the land around me slowly whither away, had watched my tiny little oasis gradually shrink. I had see-sawed between fear and hope. Would I be lifted out of this? If so, when? But I had been made to stay. And now would He answer my prayers? Terrible, painful hope came on again. I couldn’t resist it. Maybe it would be now. Maybe today. Oh why do some things take so long?

I breathed in. I breathed out.

The sky growled again, closer now and with more feeling. For the first time in weeks the land around me became aware. Slumped as it was beneath the sky of hardened glass, it gave a little shudder.

A tiny, gentle, trickling wind ruffled the grey grass around my feet. It was not like the hot, evil, shrieking wind I had weathered before, or the lazy, cloying, muggy thing that occupied the land now. It was like a gentle, cooling breath, and it whispered something. “I Am here.”

Hope made the earth begin to fret. The wind scampered about, whipped itself around a few trees and kicked the dust up into the air.

I breathed out and stood up.

The lightening showed itself more clearly, making a decisive stab at the quilt that had pinned us down for so many months, so many years.

The earth began to writhe like a woman in child birth and the wind wailed.

Then a little noise. It could have been the creak of a branch or the sound of a gumnut falling but there it was again, and again, and again.

The little noise became a tapping like a drummer counting in the band.

I breathed in and out, in and out, the air rushing back and forth in my lungs.

The wind gave a final shriek and left, as the thunder crashed into the opening bars of God’s abundant provision for His land. The rain broke through and fell to the ground. The land gasped and writhed. It gulped and coughed and spluttered as more water than it could hold was delivered.

And I danced, oh how I danced. I was part of God’s abundance as my clothes and hair, my fingertips threw water to the ground. It streamed from me. I was blinded by it, deafened by it and unable to speak. My bare feet dug into the muddy ground. My legs became earth coloured. Dead things whirled past me on sudden swift flowing little rivers – leaves, grass, a sparrow. They were being taken away while the live things remained to drink in the rain.

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope is the Lord. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, which spreads out its roots by the river, and will not fear when heat comes; But its leaf will be green, and will not be anxious in the year of drought, nor will cease from yielding fruit. (Jeremiah 17:7,8)

Had I yielded fruit during this time? I doubted it. I felt that my fruit was shrivelled and dry, like the land, or bitter or tasteless like my overburdened heart.

The deluge was beginning to ease. It still rained, steadily, not heavily. I walked over to my little patch of green.

Something was lying in the grass. It looked like an apple – red on one side fading into green and yellow on the other with a woody stalk in the top. I picked it up. It sat in the middle of my palm. It was only small. I held it up to my face and smelt it. It smelt fresh and sweet, rather like a lemon I thought. I squinted up at the sky through the water running down my face. Could I eat it? I looked back down at the apple.

I took a bite. It was bitter, but I didn’t spit it out. Instead I started to cry. The flavour of that apple brought back memories that I had pushed to the back of my mind and buried under numbness. I became suddenly aware of all the pain, and all the fear, and all the desolation that I had suffered while I waited for the Lord. And I cried, but they were cleansing tears.

I took another bite of the apple. This time it didn’t taste like fruit. It tasted like an evening meal, if that were possible. I could taste vegetables, meat, and gravy, and eggs and cheese, and maybe a little dessert thrown in at the end. It was satisfying. It wasn’t sumptuous or special. It wasn’t my favourite meal but it was good and wholesome, a meal to begin a journey on. I laughed. I knew now what God was showing me.

I took another bite. This time the taste was amazing, like nothing on earth I had ever tasted or even imagined. It was sweet and creamy with a little bit of pepper and something that seemed familiar but I couldn’t name. I took another bite and another. The flavour never seemed to end, and it tasted so good that I finished it all, and then popped the core into my mouth. There were seeds. As I bit into each one the flavour was so dry and sharp that it made me wince but the sensation that followed was like a drop of honey on the tongue.

I sat down on the ground. I felt good and full and satisfied and the rain felt warm. All around me, in the grass I could see many more of the little pieces of fruit. I picked one up and looked at it. I didn’t feel like any more. Perhaps it was for later, but there was so much! I couldn’t possibly eat all this fruit and I didn’t feel that I wanted to.

Not far from where I was sitting I saw a blue bucket lying on the ground. I had never seen it before. I got up and went over to it. It was bright blue with a metal handle and it was clean and good. I went back to my patch of green grass and began to pick up some of the fruit and put it in the bucket. The rain pattered on my head and on my back as I wandered around, picking up fruit. Soon the bucket was full, but there was still more fruit. What should I do now? There were no more buckets.

A short way away there was a hollow log. I had often watched small animals sheltering in its meagre shade. I went over to it and emptied my bucket, making a little pile of apples against the log. Then I went back to my grassy patch and started picking up fruit again. I did this three times but there was still more fruit on the ground and I was getting tired, and my pile kept growing, and I still didn’t know what I was going to do with it. There was no one to give it away to. Discouraged, I sat down in the mud with the full bucket beside me and cried again. “Why are you doing this to me Lord?”

In front of me was an apple. Absently, I picked it up and put it in the bucket. Then I saw another apple sitting in the mud. Was God tormenting me? I looked towards my bucket. I hadn’t tipped it over and yet there were suddenly more and more colourful apples all around me. I folded my arms. Now I was angry. But I had stopped crying, and the apples had stopped appearing. Then I knew. The apples were my tears. My fruit had been my crying out. And I had shed so many tears that I knew that I would never be able to pick them all up. But God had numbered every one. He had made every one count. They had become fruit for Him. Carefully I tipped up the bucket and watched the apples tumble out onto the ground. I knew He had plans for them but it was not my concern. He would continue to provide for me. I got up and went back to my place on my patch of grass and lay down. The rain was beginning to stop and a warm yellow sun was peeping out from behind the clouds.

I breathed in. I breathed out. I closed my eyes and fell sleep.