Unexpected Water

This desert land where we live is fruitful only when irrigated.  It parches by July without water. The old system of canals and ditches delivers water flowing downhill, seeping deeply into the soil and making plants strong.  It’s a great system when the land is flat and graded.  Ours isn’t.  For us, irrigation is an all-day project of coaxing the water to flow over the garden, pasture, and lawn before the time is up. We often don’t get everything done before it’s gone.  We always wish for more.  Today a full load of unscheduled water arrived.

We opened up the values to the garden, happy for the extra moisture.  The garden was watered and there was still more.  We put it on the pasture.  Pasture was watered and there was still more.  Today it’s flowing into the lawn and around to the fruit bushes. 

We weren’t planning on this water so it feels like a surprise present.  The land needs it, which means we need it.  But it messed up my schedule.  I was going to mow the lawn and do some harvesting.  Now we have to wait for everything to dry out.

God does the same thing to me.  God flows into my life with a full head, pushing over obstacles, hydrating everything, and messing up my schedule.  God usually arrives just as I thought God was farthest away and pretty soon I’m doing all kinds of things I didn’t plan on — like coming to this land and raising our food...or speaking in front of crowds...or writing a book...or blogging. 

I didn’t intend to start this crazy life of intimacy with the land.  It came to me.  This land and house were an inheritance from my husband’s parents.  It was unearned and honestly unwanted — unwanted until we started loving it. Now I have a fondness for this land that is tied to my love for my in-laws and my love for my children.  This land embraces us, like a sanctuary of thick chili, pie and ice cream.

We planted soup beans for the first time this year.  Today we picked the dry pods and began shelling.  Half an hour later we had a small bowl to show for our efforts.  I think about the huge bag I bought for $10 and an old stab of conscience pricks me.  How can people raise food, sell it for so little, and get by themselves?  I've known all my life that farmworkers really don't get by.

The cool weather made chili seem like a good idea for dinner (here's how we do chili).  I’ll make a big pot, enough for several days.  My nine-year-old asked to help while I was sorting beans and I said no, wanting to get it done and move on.  Then I remembered a story my friend Carol told about prayer.  She says that God puts prayers in our hearts for good things God was going to do anyway, and therefore lets us enjoy the dignity and satisfaction of being part of something good.  My daughter wanted to be part of feeding her family, so I called her back, and even though it took longer, gave her a little taste of the satisfaction of feeding others.  Today I prayed for God to heal several friends who have had surgery.  They will probably all get better, regardless of my prayers, but I feel that in some way my love has helped them.