The soil of my soul rippling under the brawny sun,
Hard like the bark of a tired tree.
The plants drank deeply in seasons past,
But 'neath the sun now they fast.
The claws of a toothy rake can barely reach past that stiff topsoil.
Sweeping winds that howl and dance despise the earthy crust.
The bitter-hard seasons of my life.
But now the sun that smites is overtaken by mysteriously glorious cloud,
Its sultry face hidden; hidden is that arched brow beneath the smiling lips of storm!
It breaks, it breaks! Breaking rivers and torrents of laughter
Where the weary deadness lay.
Swirling, watery loveliness washing away
All my sorrow and decay.
The cracks of a parched heart becoming sticky like the mire,
Then joyful in streaks of silvery rain
To laugh and dance, rejoice and play!
Here, ankle-deep in mud, bonded to the heart of the earth,
I stretch my hands out wide and smile.
I finger-paint with clay on stones and
Enjoy the mess, the sweet of restlessness.
My Maker makes an oasis in the desert through cloud and storm.
Where my soul once languished, He has made it sing!
By Samantha Lindholm
April 3, 2013
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I am ever-amazed how quickly and nimbly the Lord takes hold of my trial and my suffering and turns mourning into song! In this poem, it would seem that storm clouds would mean foreboding and darkness, but with the Lord it isn't so. With Him, the rain brings life to a heart that was dry! Jesus, thank You for my trials that You have turned into joy!
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