Drawing deep
"The wells have dried up".
True. They became parched & thirsty as the beautiful valley we moved to last year was hurting, drought stricken & desperate for rain.
We were at first mesmerised by the immense river, the backdrop of mountains & the vast ocean - all so close in distance & part of the valley we were beginning to discover & love.
However, you dig a little & find there is a lot more to discover. There is much beauty, yet unspoken pain.
There is heartache, and a sense of foreboding.
When will it rain again?
When will the drought break?
For the wells have run dry.
And then, the fire comes. Menacing, powerful ... catastrophic.
It wipes out homes & breathes smoke on everyone - no one escapes the affects of its reach & it shakes the valley to the core.
From the coast to the mountains - burnt, pummelled ... still desperate for water.
People pray. People who haven't prayed for years... decades, pray. They reach out to each other.
Some don't.
It is often said that catastrophes bring out the best & worst in humanity - and this is the case here.
Some see the crisis as an opportunistic field day to leech from those who have suffered enough, taking for themselves whatever possessions they can find. Trespassing. Stripping.
No heart.
Many speak life & hope. They give generously & wrap their arms around those who are bruised.
Thankfully they outnumber the leeches.
"But wells will be re-dug"
New beginnings are hard, but starting again brings life.
The rains do come, but not enough. They bring new life to the trees, but they don't fill the wells.
They bring hope.
We look up & see the clouds and put up with the sweltering, humid heat in expectation of rain.
Rain to heal a thirsty, blackened land.
And in waiting, in hoping ... we begin to draw deep. We draw deeply from reservoirs we didn't know were there. We draw from wisdom deep in our heart birthed by goodness & truth.
Reservoirs of resilience that keeps us standing tall, through tear streaked faces peering at the horizon anticipating a change in the skies.
We dig deeply like the roots of the stately oak, sweeping down in search of liquid gold.
And in doing so we know, deep down, our valley will be lush again.
And springs of water will flow into its heart - bringing life ... filling the wells.
"..knowing what is right is like deep water in the heart; a wise person draws from the well within" Proverbs 20:5
True. They became parched & thirsty as the beautiful valley we moved to last year was hurting, drought stricken & desperate for rain.
We were at first mesmerised by the immense river, the backdrop of mountains & the vast ocean - all so close in distance & part of the valley we were beginning to discover & love.
However, you dig a little & find there is a lot more to discover. There is much beauty, yet unspoken pain.
There is heartache, and a sense of foreboding.
When will it rain again?
When will the drought break?
For the wells have run dry.
And then, the fire comes. Menacing, powerful ... catastrophic.
It wipes out homes & breathes smoke on everyone - no one escapes the affects of its reach & it shakes the valley to the core.
From the coast to the mountains - burnt, pummelled ... still desperate for water.
People pray. People who haven't prayed for years... decades, pray. They reach out to each other.
Some don't.
It is often said that catastrophes bring out the best & worst in humanity - and this is the case here.
Some see the crisis as an opportunistic field day to leech from those who have suffered enough, taking for themselves whatever possessions they can find. Trespassing. Stripping.
No heart.
Many speak life & hope. They give generously & wrap their arms around those who are bruised.
Thankfully they outnumber the leeches.
"But wells will be re-dug"
New beginnings are hard, but starting again brings life.
The rains do come, but not enough. They bring new life to the trees, but they don't fill the wells.
They bring hope.
We look up & see the clouds and put up with the sweltering, humid heat in expectation of rain.
Rain to heal a thirsty, blackened land.
And in waiting, in hoping ... we begin to draw deep. We draw deeply from reservoirs we didn't know were there. We draw from wisdom deep in our heart birthed by goodness & truth.
Reservoirs of resilience that keeps us standing tall, through tear streaked faces peering at the horizon anticipating a change in the skies.
We dig deeply like the roots of the stately oak, sweeping down in search of liquid gold.
And in doing so we know, deep down, our valley will be lush again.
And springs of water will flow into its heart - bringing life ... filling the wells.
"..knowing what is right is like deep water in the heart; a wise person draws from the well within" Proverbs 20:5
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