I’ve been praying for rain for weeks. Correction-for months. We’ve been in the worst drought Oklahoma has seen since the dust bowl. My crispy garden limps along with wilted leaves during the day, only popping to life at night or in the cool of morning.
This Saturday, I planned a garage sale without regards to the weather. I’ve taken for granted the blue sky, the shining sun, the brown pokey grass and my sweaty pits. So, I set up for the sale, advertised, priced, organized and didn’t look back.
He didn’t consider my garage sale when he planned his weather. He didn’t consider that I had been praying for rain for weeks and didn’t answer me. And after all, I just didn’t want it to rain for this one Saturday. He didn’t consider me whining as the first drops fell and he didn’t stop the rain when I begged him to do so.
He just let loose and let the rain fall. All over me and my garage sale, all over my huge stack of Dwell magazines, my perfectly organized display of clothing, my pink gigantic cardboard flowers, my carefully priced tools and my fancy picnic basket.
God didn’t do what I wanted. I closed up shop after complaining quite a bit to Biceps and to my friends that stopped by. I grumbled as I pulled out the whole wheat flour and buttermilk to make pancakes for all of us. I whined as we sat down to our impromptu breakfast.
We bowed our heads as Biceps prayed, thanking God for the blessing of the rain, for the break in the garage sale action which provided the opportunity to spend time with some of our closest friends and for the financial blessing we had already experienced that morning.
Ouch. God did what he wanted to do in his timing, not in my timing.
Well played, God. Well played.