There was a summer years ago, when I was a teenager, that every morning dawned bright, clear and sunny. It was the kind of summer where you never had to worry about outdoor plans. Nothing ever got rained out. It was hot. Every day seemed perfect.
Except for my boss. That summer I was working at a fruit farm. Those perfect days translated into something different for my employer. A dry spell. Drought. A potential disaster to his season of harvest. He needed the rain.
I would step outside, scanning the sky for the potential of a downpour and not find the hint of a cloud. Even though it wasn’t my livelihood on the line, I started to long for rain. It would come. We just had to wait.
This summer hasn’t been like that here in Niagara. We have had cooler temperatures. We have had rain. Sometimes plans have been cancelled due to weather. I suspect that our farmers are happy.
This summer has been marked with another sort of drought in my life. I am at a loss for words. And it is getting discouraging.
My husband, Pete, and I were sitting and talking the other day and I started to question if this is just a July thing. If this is the new norm for this month. The kids are home from school. Life is definitely louder than during the winter months. It is harder to think.
July is not just about having the kids home, though. July also marks some pretty significant days on our family calendar that seem to affect the whole month. Or at least my month. Arlynne’s birthday and death anniversary (or angel-versary, for those of you who can forgive my loose theology) happen a mere 3 days apart at the end of the month. A day that used to be a celebration that has turned into a reminder of everything we have lost.
What is kind of funny, though, is that I launched this blog in July of last year. Last year my heart was full of words, ready to burst. I needed an outlet to try to tell the story, to find healing in a pen, to release my grief. And, for a time, words filled my mind. As soon as I posted a blog the next started to form in my mind. I wondered if I would ever stop.
And then it did. I did.
I was telling a friend about my dilemma a couple of days ago. About my inability to write. She reminded me that this is a season. This is temporary. A time to sit back and let my brain rest. The words will come. There are more stories to share. I just need to wait.
And waiting is hard. Just like waiting for that new little life that came into my world 20 years ago tomorrow. I thought I knew the signs but only my Father God knew the perfect moment, His time, for Arlynne to make her appearance for her short visit on this earth. And He knows the right time for me to start writing again.
In the meantime, I have faith that He is in it. It says right in His word that He has set times for everything. Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (NIV) says;
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
These days are the time for me to think about Arlynne. To allow myself to remain a little longer. To let my mind go places that I normally don’t go. They are tough days, sad days. But all the while I linger here I keep resting in the faith that God has this. He has me. Psalm 91:4 says “He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”(NIV). I feel covered by His peace, His protection, His love. The days aren’t easy but He is here.