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.

*Psalm 65:9-10
**Matthew 6:25-34
***Psalm 4:8

3 thoughts on “

  1. The floods often feel like theft. He’s like an overaffectionate aunt — except he’s only affectionate the right amount.
    Perhaps we should be more appreciative of overaffection in all its forms, then.

  2. Suzanne says:

    He knows how to give a supply of peace, doesn’t he? One that passes all understanding. “Without Thy sweet mercy I could not live here…” and His mercies are new every morning. 🙂

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