I pray at the kitchen sink more than anywhere else.
I think it’s something to do with the soothing warm water and the fact that washing dishes is a focused task. Compared to, say, cleaning up the living room, which has me rabbit trailing between toys and books and the old carpet stain I keep meaning to re-treat and the nagging reminder from an overstuffed basket that I need to sort through the mail.
At the kitchen sink there are only dishes and soap suds and my thoughts.
Late at night while the household sleeps I straggle into the kitchen between cleaning up and bedtime to find peace in a sink full of waiting dishes. And before I know it I am turning over more than cups; I am sharing what I find in the back of my mind with the God who meets me in my unconventional kitchen.
So it is that as I rinse my bright red frying pan I find myself praying desperate dreams for the future
I pray for what I want, but rarely for what I have.
Until I was recently reminded of this verse: “Ask rain from the Lord in the season of the spring rain, from the Lord who makes the storm clouds, and he will give them showers of rain . . . .” Zechariah 10:1 (ESV).
In the season of rain, pray for rain.
And suddenly it’s New Year’s Eve 1999, and I’m back on a dry game farm in Zimbabwe surrounded by farmers who haven’t seen decent rain in months. These sun-weathered men sit in their rough clothes at a long table that’s been set for dinner under the Southern Cross. The soft linens and delicate place settings are a quirky contrast to those seated before them ready to toast in the new millennium.
The first course is cucumber soup.
But with first bites come cold, hard drops. The soup ricochets up at those dipping spoons down into it. Rough faces and beards are splattered green. Cucumber soup everywhere but in our mouths.
Rain. Long looked for rain pelts down from the clouds that are our only ceiling tonight. I prepare to make a dash for it – to shelter and warmth and the inside of the lodge.
But I am the only one to move.
A table of grown men carries on their meal as the rain falls down and the soup splashes up.
The thunder and force of the water is so loud that it crowds out any attempt at conversation.
But their actions speak louder than words and my father interprets them for me, “They won’t leave the rain, because they don’t want it to leave them.”
In the season of rain, they want more rain. And they are afraid if they get up it will be over.
With soap suds up to my elbows I lean on the sink, remembering.
What I have now is once what I wanted so desperately: healed marriage, healthy children, meaningful work. I don’t want to lose sight of these in the chase after my next prayer request.
In the season of rain – still – pray for rain. Presume nothing; take nothing for granted; treasure everything.
Because, once the rain begins and sends soup splashing all over you, it’s tempting to walk away from the answered prayer and move on to the next thing.
I do not want to do that.
I want to sit and revel in what God has given me here and now. I want it to splash up and onto and all over me. I want to pray for its protection and its continuation.
I want to be soaking wet with gratitude for all that God has showered down on this life in between loud kids and messy bedrooms.
Daily, between soap suds and dirty dishes, I want to pray for what I have.
How about you – what were you once desperate for? What have you been given? What do you need to remember to treasure?
Let’s sit out in the rain and share, shall we?
Father, thank you for my boys. I prayed so hard for them and we lost so much in between. They are truly blessings from you. Forgive me when I rush them from one activity to the next or when their shrieks and giggles seem more like procrastination against my instruction than the household noise I almost didn’t get to have. Help me remember, through mountains of laundry done after work, after dinner, after bath times and bedtime, that I’m folding little socks, that I almost didn’t get to fold. That I’m collecting sports cards that I almost didn’t get to collect. That I’m heating up chicken nuggets for mouths I almost didn’t get to feed. Thank you for them. Thank you for a courageous and strong partner in crime to raise these two wild things. Help me not ever forget asking and praising you for the rain. ~ Thanks, Lisa-Jo.
Years ago, and through the years…as a young girl, a teenager, a college student, a young wife…I prayed to be a mom one day. In my heart, I felt like that was what I was meant to be…what I was meant to do. Our first child…he was born with Down Syndrome. He is ah-may-zing, and we love him to the moon and back, but you have to know that things have not been easy. Things have been hard and scary and uncertain and fun and…awesome. We have 4 children now, and each one holds a special place in my heart…but that first one…Joshua…HE was the answer to my prayer. God knew the deep desire of my heart and gave me a child that I have had the privilege to mother for nearly 29 years. I mother him in a way that our other kids have grown away from and no longer need. The other three are more or less pretty independent…two are married now, and our youngest will graduate from high school in May. My role has changed and evolved with them at every stage…and it’s been wonderful. But with Joshua…in many ways, most ways, I am still a MOM. So on those days when I am driving him to and from his Therapeutic Recreation group outings and he is talking NON-STOP, or when I am helping him fix a meal, or when I grab his arm when we cross the street because he doesn’t notice if cars are coming, or when I answer the same questions over and over…I don’t run. I sit and wonder at this calling the Lord has placed on our lives, and thank Him for answering my prayer. It’s been such a blessing.
This is such a timely encouragement! We received our annual notice of rent increase and have begun our annual dream of buying a home. The neighbourhood where we live, where God has clearly called us to, is out of our price range, but we love it and are starting to see fruit and feel how deep our roots have become here after 5 years.
Regardless if our housing situation changes, today I am thanking God for the beautiful home we have made and trusting that he will continue to provide for what we need physically and emotionally.
This is really beautiful. I have always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom and I’m so blessed to be living that dream. I know there are so many working moms and single moms who would trade places with me in a second. And yet, I complain. I’m bored and frustrated and waiting for kindergarten even though I know that when it’s all over I will wish to go back. Thank you for sharing this perspective. My children thank you too.
I’m thankful today for a healed marriage as well…one that was tainted by a pornography addiction for almost 8 years. I’m thankful that I get to stay at home and raise three healthy and sweet children. I’m thankful for our church we helped plant two years ago and that I get a front row seat to all that God does in the people there. I could go on and on. I’m praying today that my actions and words with my husband and little ones will reflect my thankfulness and His unending grace. Thank you for this post!