Returning to my home this afternoon, the most wonderful fragrance greeted me as I pulled into the driveway. The farmers were turning over the ground, preparing it for planting. Normally, dirt doesn't exactly smell great. But the good earth never smells so sweet as when it is full of promise.
What will this year's crop be? Will it be corn or soybeans? Rarely is it anything but that, save for an occasional foray into Winter wheat. Living in a farming area, I never paid so much attention to the weather. Will there be enough rain? Too much? What about an unexpected freeze?
I'm constantly amazed at the resilience of the crops. When there is a drought, the roots simply go deeper. Then when the rains come, they are heartier than ever.
I wonder if I can say the same about myself. Enduring long periods of lifelessness generally tempts me into despair. But that isn't where I planted my roots. There is a life-giving, fertile soil that nourishes and anchors me during the hard times. Then, when blessings come, I can flourish.
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