Somebody’s pasture. The adjacent
road was under a few inches of water
in one spot.

Personally, I don’t have one legitimate thing to complain about. Our neighborhood experienced very minimal damage. We joked about taking a submarine to go get hamburgers. “Okay, you can stop praying for rain now,” we said.

The weather that only annoyed us was far more serious elsewhere. Hundreds around the state lost their homes and all their belongings. More tragically, dozens died.

Texas really, really needed rain, however–and lots of it. The summer of 2011 saw intense drought, and wildfires popping up all over the place. Honestly, you couldn’t pull off the road with a flat tire, or sneeze after eating jalapeños, without sparking a grass fire. Forest fires threatened my home town of Palestine. Away to the southwest, much of our beautiful Hill Country went up in smoke.

The drought continued through 2012, 2013, and 2014. “Lakefront” property gradually became “Beachfront” property, with the “beach” growing wider by the month.

So, back to May of this year. After the first week of daily rain, grouchiness overtook most everyone. Gallows humor was the order of the day. Every few days the rain would stop and the sun would glimmer through, staying just long enough to mow the yard before rain pelted us again. (You had to mow the grass every chance you got, or it would get too thick by the next clearing.)

We whined.

“We Texans are never happy with the weather,” some of us have been scolding ourselves.

But are we truly just spoiled malcontents?

I’m not so sure.

See, God hard-wired a natural rhythm into all creation, from galaxies and solar systems, down to our little planet and the individual plants and animals who call it home.

We have seasons and years and tides, work and rest, birth and death, planting and harvest. The Biblical poem at the beginning of Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3 lists more examples.

Nobody wants to hop around on one foot. Instead, we walk: left, right, left right. Nor can we live on only food or only water. We need both, preferably every day.

In the same way, our environment thrives when rain and sunshine alternate, in appropriate amounts. As near as I can figure, that’s what Texas has been missing–the sense of rhythm we naturally expect.

But what are we supposed to do when that rhythm falters?

When we suffer from “too much” of one thing, “not enough” of another, it seems our first reaction is often to complain. Maybe blame God. But the interruptions could remind us that we are dependent on our Creator. Instead of griping, what about asking him for what we need, an then practicing trust while we wait?

Just something to think about while you’re mowing the yard.

Your turn: Do you feel out of sorts when life gets out of rhythm? How do you cope? I’d love for you to share in the comments below.

Thanks for reading,
Jan