We had a lovely rainfall a few days ago; the sort that sets in all day long and keeps us housebound. The perfect start for the summer. At the moment, most of us have forgotten what it's like not to fling a few loads of washing up on the clothesline whenever we feel like it. I got out an umbrella from some deep, dark recess and had a walk. I liked the fresh smell of the good water soaking into the dry earth. And little gullies and ditches which have been powdery-dry were transformed to rivers. I could not believe how one good day of thorough soaking could transform my block. One new river which had been a dry trail the day before even had ducks swimming in it. Local ponds had swollen. Water was pouring downhill with great force, bubbling everywhere. There were smiles from other walkers I greeted and comments that, "The farmers are really going to appreciate this."
But what surprised me even more was the following afternoon, when I asked my daughter to come with me to see all the rivers and ponds that had magically appeared. They'd all disappeared already. The ponds had become wading puddles and that river that the ducks were swimming on had become a slimy foot trail. How thirsty the land must have been! So much for that one decent rainfall.
Makes me think that we can be like dry, parched, thirsty landscapes ourselves, without even knowing it. When I'm wrung-out and exhausted, I sometimes feel that one restful afternoon might replenish me, but that's not necessarily the case. In the same way, one morning of Bible study and devotions won't last us the whole week! And filling up your car with petrol won't get you all the way from Adelaide to Melbourne, however quickly you want to make it. This has reminded me to schedule times for refreshment and contemplation into my agenda.