We have had a drought in our part of the country lately. And when I say drought, I mean drought. As in lawns dying, dirt cracking, no end in sight kind of drought. It’s funny how this kind of thing can sneak up on you. At first it’s just hot for a bunch of days in a row, that turns into weeks, and suddenly, one day you think, “Hey it hasn’t rained in a while.”
Well, while our lawn was getting crispier, another drought was hitting us. Our church that we had been going to for 13 years wasn’t able to meet because our pastor had suddenly resigned.
This is the church that my husband and I first started to attend right after we got married. It’s the church where we worked with the youth group, went to Mexico on mission trips, announced the birth of each of our six babies, and dedicated each of them (except the latest one).
It’s the church that has provided three weeks worth of meals for us after the birth of each one of our kiddos and has carried us in prayer and action through many scary episodes in our family.
It’s the church where our kids saw DD and Pops each Sunday and got a big hug only a grandparent can give. And a place where I was proud to bring my Mom and Dad, sisters, brother-in-law and nephews when they would come visit.
In short, this was a church full of some of my best friends and supporters, where we would come together and worship the Lord each week. A church full of people pointing our family to Jesus on a regular basis. It was our church home.
Mid-summer, our pastor resigned. Within two weeks, we didn’t meet as a church anymore because we didn’t have a pastor. We haven’t officially closed, but my family and I still needed a place to worship on Sundays. We started “church dating” again. Not fun.
Well, as they say, long story short…last Sunday, a bunch of us from the old church ended up visiting the same church.
As I sat there, looking around at this small reminder of our church home, I couldn’t hold it in. I hadn’t realized what a drought it had been for us to be separated from our church family for so long. Being with this small group reminded me of all the people we haven’t been able to see each Sunday. This moment felt like fresh rain on parched ground. I seriously couldn’t stop crying. It didn’t matter to me what anyone thought as tears were running down my cheeks, my God knew I needed a break in the drought. And He provided the rain.