There is a field not far from our house.
We live in suburbia.
Cow pastures are not common in our immediate area.
But there is one here. Right around the corner. On the vertex of a busy intersection.
Local lore says there is an old woman, set in her ways, who refuses to sell.
I like to pretend that she’s refusing to sell because she wants to preserve a little bit of nature for all of us. That she wants our kids who might never see cows, to see cows. That she wants to share the beauty of wild flowers and haphazardly growing trees with our entire town.
For days now, the rainy season has come to dump its provisions on us.
If the season were a he, I’d say he’s set up camp, and intends to leave his mark on our little neck of the city.
It has been downpouring for more days than not of the last week. It hailed balls the size of quarters the week before. Streets and parking lots are flooding temporarily, and then draining when Mr. Rainy Season sees fit to take a break.
This field, where cows roam and graze for 11 months out of the year, has gone under water. Birds are flocking to its weedy surface to pick at bugs. Mosquitos are holding family reunions and procreating like crazy.
The field has become a swamp.
But it’s still a field.
When the rain is gone and the standing water evaporates, it’s the same field.
It will be rich with wet soil.
Flowers and weeds will flourish and provide nourishment for all walks of nature – from flies to bovine.
The field will be changed, but simultaneously, it’s the same.
It’s still a field, with the same core, the same base layer of soil, the same location, the same people bustling around it, the same cows munching on its vegetation.
But it will have evolved. It’s growing. It’s being modified right along with the rest of the environment. It’s being changed and molded by the forces of nature.
That field is us, folks.
When it rains, it pours, and sometimes it floods.
For days, or weeks, we can be under water and struggling to catch a peek at the sun.
It might seem out of our reach.
But remember, no matter how much rain falls, we are still the same person at the core. Inside, we still have the same heart, the same soul, the same love, the same grace. Nothing and nobody can take away what’s inside you unless you let them – and you don’t have to.
Whatever your storm might be, it will pass.
The stability and peace of life before the storm will come back. It might be different, but it’s still there, still remains, and will be there when the clouds clear.
We just need to wait for the water to recede.
And what’s left behind is still us. Still the field.
Just stronger, richer, wiser, beautified.
We will have been molded by the force that knows what we need.
Rain is food for growth – for the field and for us.