Tip of My Iceberg

Our Sunshine State is sodden.

Since returning from Colorado–where the sun shines typically more than it does in Florida–we’ve seen little of our golden globe of a friend.

It’s rained every day. Often in torrents. Puddles are no longer problematic–they’re permanent. Soggy is our new norm. Humidity that is always high has become a living sauna. Not that I’m crabbing. This kind of humidity is great for the skin.

With our daughter’s family living with us, the littles love the puddles and mud and all things wet. Actually, it’s really just Mason who does–Brooklyn is a fastidious little gal who doesn’t like dirt.

That’s another issue.

Every single day there has been a forecast of rain.

We’re trying to do some work in our yard, extending the slab on our back porch to make it large enough to put a table that will accommodate our growing clan. The footers have been placed, but we need three days of NO rain before any concrete can be poured.

That may happen in November.

I’m not necessarily in a hurry for this to happen. I’m learning–slowly–that I can’t obsess over things I can’t control. Like the rain. I’m limiting my expectations, managing my anticipation.

I’m learning to wait well.

We’ve joked about the second coming of Noah with all the moisture we’ve had. Definitely not enough to float a boat, but enough to cause me to consider what it was like for Noah to have had a conversation with God and being told he would build an ark. A really big boat capable of holding a colossal number of animals and eight people, plus all the food and necessities for them to live on a boat for an unspecified number of days.

Noah’s wait was made more challenging by building something he’d never attempted to construct before. Which took decades. And being the brunt of jokes during that time because others had no idea what he was doing. He was a man who trusted God in an age where corruption was the norm and wickedness was the lifestyle. People did what was right in their own eyes, not caring how others were hurt by their arrogance and entitlement.

God was grieved that He’d made man, so he determined He’d wipe out everything and everyone and start all over with Noah.

What’s interesting is every culture in the world has a flood story that’s part of their heritage.

God won’t destroy the earth with floods anymore–He promised that. No matter what it feels like in different places of the world where floods and tsunamis happen frequently.

God waits now, for more people to understand who He is and the gift He’s offering of forgiveness and love through His Son. He waits for more people to see His Light and choose His payment for them, rather than requiring that payment from them. Which is death, eternal separation from God.

This rain we’re experiencing now? I can wait this out. The porch will be finished. The sun will shine again.

Some things, though, require action now.

Waiting could be hazardous for health.