"Thankful" for the rain

Yesterday I was on a mission. Like a man possessed I set my face like flint to water the lawn. When the boys were watching their 3..2..1 Penguins video I positioned the sprinkler and watered the first third of the yard. When they were in bed for a bit I went back out and watered the second third. Then When the NBA finals were on (ugh - Lakers lost again!) I watered the remaining third. Quite a production, I know, but it had to be done.

Well, in the middle of the night I thought I heard rain. I knew I had heard thunder, but we had a couple of rumbles during the day that did not produce one drop of rain. But I knew that it was coming down now and I was not happy. Who wouldn't be happy about the rain? Especially me who is admiring the growth of our impatiens and checked every last hydrangea yesterday for buds like I saw on my sister's the night before (3 have them!)? Well, I caught myself in the error of my ways and then proceeded to give permission for it to rain as long as there was a little of it. Well, that seemed silly so I thought that if there was a lot of rain then all would be forgiven. I think I went back to sleep after that.

All this and it did not rain a drop last night. It is a good thing I watered, but I need to let go of my animosity toward the rain and, indirectly, toward the provision of God. Why curse the rain and the God who causes it to fall on the just and the unjust? I hope my lack of joy was just sleep deprivation coupled with the struggle through the ravages of my allergies, but I think it goes much deeper than that.