It happens every year. Along one of the main roads that I travel to town there is a storm drain at the bottom of a hill. During most of the year you’d never even know it was there. But when the rains begin each fall, wonderful things begin to happen to that nondescript circle in the middle of the road. I can’t help but wonder if anyone but me even notices it when to me it speaks volumes.
I think of all the dry spells in my life; I’m in one now. The days are long and exhausting, and sometimes I wonder how I will make it through to the next one. But everytime I pass this place in the road, my hope is renewed, and God reminds me that He will make streams in the desert places of my life, that He will give me beauty for ashes, that there is no place so dry He can’t reach it, and that no matter how awful I feel, He is there to satisfy my thirsty soul.