by Rev. Melinda Giese
This summer, the creek that runs through our neighborhood dried up. For the first time in the eighteen years we’ve lived here, the creek bed did not contain even a small amount of water. Fortunately, the rain over the past weeks has replenished and restored the dry creek bed. Walking by, we can once again hear the welcome sound of splashing and rushing water.
Living in this area, it is easy to take the blessing of water for granted. Usually, we wish for a little less of that “blessing,” particularly in the soggy winter months, and rejoice in the drier summer months. But this year felt different with the summer bringing so much heat and so little rain. I notice as the lawns respond to the rain and turn green again this fall, I feel more gratitude than usual. After so many dry days this summer, the rain feels like a true gift.
Throughout the Bible, water is seen as God’s blessing and as a metaphor for physical and spiritual health. As Isaiah 58:11 assures us, “The Lord will guide you continually and provide for you, even in parched places...You will be like a watered garden, like a spring of water that won’t run dry.” In this image, we hear God’s promise of life and abundance, human well-being and flourishing. We also hear water used as a symbol of God’s presence in Psalm 63, “God! My God! It’s you – I search for you! My whole being thirsts for you! My body desires you in a dry and tired land, no water anywhere.”
At this point in the pandemic, we all have places in our lives that feel parched or like a dry and tired land, areas in need of those springs of water that won’t run dry. We feel frustration that the pandemic is not over yet, that our lives continue to be impacted, that we don’t know when life will seem normal again. We experience grief and anger at all we have missed over the past eighteen months. We miss our faith community and large gatherings. We struggle to make sense of it all and to find the presence of God within this time.
When we wonder where God’s blessing is in these parched times, we might look for small moments that refresh our spirits and help us to feel renewed, instances that seem more like a brief shower than a typical Pacific Northwest downpour. Perhaps we felt such a moment watching the incredibly colorful sunset last week or during a phone call that lifted our spirits. Maybe we experienced God’s comfort in a particular piece of music or in the enjoyment of a hobby. Or we might find it in an act of service we either give or receive.
As our neighborhood creek reminds me, eventually the rains come to replenish and renew us. Until then, may we watch for the small oasis moments that keep us going, gently reminding us of God’s continued presence and provision.