This morning I awoke with quiet sadness.
Like hunger pangs deep within,
My spirit is sore from this drought.
When clouds are heavy,
The rains come down.
Whether a tree falls north or south,
It stays where it falls.
Farmers who wait for perfect weather never plant.
If they watch every cloud,
They never harvest.
I can't expect to grow when I wait for 'perfect weather.'
It is during this time of the desert that I am being pruned
For the harvest. I will accept this testing as a privelege and
Be grateful for what God is doing in me. I won't wait til I feel
Rushing waterfalls to praise the Lord.
I will continue to praise Him in the wasteland,
and thirst for His presence.