"The most important of life's battles is the one we fight daily in the silent chambers of the soul."

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Teardrops of the Summer Rain

Some people feel the rain, others just get wet.

The summer rays heat my skin causing a feeling of just dry. The dust blows at me as I try to finish the last of the fields mowing.
The tractor's pto bogs down under the weight of the thick grass. I push on feeling the wind picking up cooling my face. I lick the
sweat off my lips....muscles ache as I try to hold on over ridges and gullies. "Oof!" She drops down a sharp drop off shaking my teeth.
Summer rain is coming. I hear the rumble in the distance drawing closer. My hair stands on end from the static electricity.
Gray clouds darken the sky.....taking almost macabe shapes. Going from grey to black...lightening flashes in its arcaic way
across the sky...touching cloud to cloud. I push on. How many times have I been? Trying to outrun the summer rain.
I stop. Getting off the tractor the downpour begins. Drops of cool water rivulets run down my skin. Refreshing me of the heat. I raise
my face to feel it washing the dust from my eyes. I stick out my toungue to taste fresh taste of rainwater God has provided.
I turn my hands palms up to feel the droplets massage the pain of work from my hands.
But mostly I sense the water run down my cheeks. Can't tell if its rain or my tears. Noone can see u crying they say when its
raining. I try to remember who I once was as a carefree youth and who I have become as jaded adult. So jaded that I feel
all who come into contact with me, I cut. What I become? I've cried these tears in moments of joy and in moments of great pain.
I cried them at my birth, and will cry them at my death. But now they are enveloped in a collage of teardrops. These rainwaters
at one time were part of the oceans but, also teardrops of someone who once lived. Someone who felt the same emotions I feel
right now. So it would seem the tears of the ages fall with this summer rain. But it does little to silence thunderings of
my hurting heart. Love they say heals this pain. The love of a woman, the love of a child, the love of a parent...but ultimately
they all go away in the end. Leaving you standing alone searching the skies for answers.
I remove my soaked t-shirt to wipe my face. The smell of the summer rain leaves a fresh odor to the air.

 Then I hear it...the birds calling. Calling out sounds of happiness. For they are
receiving what they need.And I remember the verse from Matthew 10:31...."So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."
I know I needed to be reminded of that.
But I am afraid. Afraid that I can't love. That I've forgotten how. I pick a pink flower from the bush. Each bulb has opened
to take in the life the summer rain brings. The white center is surrounded by a darker pink giving it a kalidescope look. Turning
the blossom I just picked, I notice the colors moving in and out as I spin it. How beautiful! No man could ever make something
this exquisite and unique. One of a kind in its loveliness. How I wish that I could love and unclench my fist. To let the blossom
bulb of my heart be opened. The summer rain opened the pedals but alas, the tears of my jaded heart fall to the ground of
bitterness and stay.
"God, my prayer is that one day you will let loose all the tears I have for the one I will love. So it becomes a downpour so strong
that the blooms of love can once again be seen by all. Until that day, Father, save them in your bottles of rememberance. Amen."
by

Lance Gargus

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