Rain all night long, and a flashing sky. In the morning the pond, which I thought might never be full again, overflowing its banks and gurgling down the dike.
It is a prodigality of provision which we often find irksome. We wanted rain, not floods, maybe. But on freshly washed mornings, like this one was, the bounty makes me glad. God does not merely water the earth, He waters it abundantly*. All this for “the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace — will He not much more do so for you?”**
And so my rubber-booted feet leap over the pond run-off and the sun emerges to make the world sparkle, and I know no more now than I knew yesterday … but He who knows what I need before I ask Him says “Do not be anxious.” He must know, then, that I need a supply of peace.
In peace I will both lie down and sleep …***
As far as I know, the pond is still overflowing.