The words washed over me as I looked out at the dust blowing and thought of the hardened earth. A gentle whisper to test the words against experience. I went outside and poured a cup of water upon the earth as the wind and dust swirled around me.  The camera was quick to catch an almost puddle as the water soaked into the cracked earth. What I didn’t see, until the picture appeared on my computer, were the tiny little sprigs of green and purple. Little arms waving upward between the cracks of earth.

Yes, life can offer downpours of abundance and wisdom that mean little until we pause, notice, and absorb. That I understand. To accept no one’s wisdom or judgment simply because it was said. All must be checked with our own heart. The poem’s words are true. But the words left out a precious, precious gift. Even without the rivers to be absorbed, even within the cracks of drought there can be healing and life. We can lift our arms to the sun, wind, dust, and drought and offer color and life. And with such faith borne in the heart, we can hear the giggle of “I knew you would come and give me a drink.”