Little Foxes in a Holy Spirit Rain
(The little foxes don’t stop tearing at us, do they! I wrote this in 2012 – and they haven’t stopped trying to ruin. It’s God’s Holy Spirit that makes the difference, why the vine of whom I am doesn’t break, doesn’t ruin. Challenges don’t go away, but faith, God and the Holy Spirit – they make the difference in how I live through those challenges. I wanted to remind myself today about letting the Holy Spirit wash over me and through me, cleaning me out and filling me up with things of Him.)
The little foxes had torn at the vines of my heart, nipping, trying to ruin the vines, to break the roots. Those little foxes, I am familiar with them. I recognize them for what they are, and though I know them, am prepared to deter them, they weary me. Yesterday evening found me battle fatigued, bruised, smudged by the dirty tactics, needing a Holy Spirit Rain to wash out these little foxes.
As I stepped outside into the Tennessee heat, the hotness touched me tangibly as though I had slipped on a fine kid merino shrug. My husband joined me to watch the sunset with its pinks, oranges hedged with billowing whiteness. Dark clouds encroached. Sunsets delight us both, drawing us close, this shared sensibility that restores much.
Lightening grew, grumbling bouncing in the North, sliding south. My jaded faith doubted it would dip our way. Usually, our rain was a southerly rain. We walked outside, talking about our crowded hydrangea, dwarfed rose bush, untangling the morning glory from the overgrown butterfly bush. Our garden had changed – and we needed to tackle those changes.
We stopped briefly, looking at the growth behind a burning bush. Surprised, my husband said, “Grape Vine.” His Dad grew grape vines – it was as though he somehow crept into our garden and planted it. But he couldn’t have, though. Another change, a sorrow change for us, during our journey, the loss of my father-in-law. Yet, there was a sweet reminder, wrapped around our bird feeder.
As the lightening bullied its way closer, we retreated inside – and inside, lightning cracked, silencing the katydids and tree frogs. Lightening is bold where we live.
As bedtime arrived, so did the buckets of rain. “Come and smell it,” I called to the boys, the 2 little guys. The littlest showed up, giving me his 10-year-old incredulous-look followed by the “My-mom-is-nuts” look, but he stood with me sniffing the sweet scent of rain washing the dusty worn air of hotness. He decided to sleep on the floor of his room. “It would be safer,” he reasoned with 10-year-old logic.
I joined my husband on the porch, my pausing place, my favorite place to sit, to knit, to read, to grade essays when I taught, to listen, to watch, to be. . . and the rain poured, in sheets, wave after wave of sheets.
I thought of an afternoon rain 23 years ago, during a heavy summer drought that stymied my cucumbers for my bread and butter pickles. That afternoon, it rained a downpour – and my first born, freshly 2, danced with me outside, in the rain, faces pressed upward, mouths wide open.
Today, in the darkness, my driveway shimmered like a pond, the water shifting in the breeze, in the pummeling sheets. And the lightening – it wasn’t just jagged bolts. It was like watching God draw in the sky with a thin pen over and over and over.
I thought of the Holy Spirit, the unsung member of the Trinity – and I wanted it to wash through my soul, like rainwater washed the dust, the heat from the air.
“And they waited for me as for the rain; and they opened their mouth wide as for the latter rain” (Job 29:23)
I wanted to be filled, filled like Peter with the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost, filled so much he never faltered again in his mission.
Sitting in my rocking chair, pushed toward the edge of porch, the rain misted over my legs and arms, cooling, chilling – and I laughed – relishing the moment, the blessing, the washing away.
The rain moved south, and I sighed, wanting more. Like an encore, the clouds backed up, pouring a double portion over our patch of living.
The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.” (Isaiah 58:11)
I wanted the Holy Spirit to fill me like that, to fill me with crucifixion courage, overflowing with mountain-moving faith, drawing me closer to the Father, to hear His words to me, His comfort, His power to vanquish the little foxes.
“You care for the land and water it;
you enrich it abundantly” (9a).
I am not alone, Father. You care for me, your creation, sending me living water, The Holy Spirit, to grow me more than I think I am, that I am not what the little foxes taunt; I am precious to you, valuable to you, like land that overflows abundantly.
”The streams of God are filled with water
to provide the people with grain,
for so you have ordained it” (9b).
You provide nourishment for my spirit, The Word and The Holy Spirit, enabling me to fight off spirit colds, weaknesses and tormenting situations that wear me out like the dusty, hotness of a relentless summer day. Empower my will to seek Your Holy Spirit Provision; let it not be the little foxes nipping and tearing at me that send me running to you. I want to be stronger than that, more faithful than that.
“You drench its furrows
and level its ridges;
you soften it with showers
and bless its crops” (Psalm 65: 9-10).
Holy Spirit, rain on me, filling the hidden places, the high and lows of my soul, softening the soil of my spirit, allowing the gifts my Father planted before I was born to grow, producing abundant fruit, and sharing the seed of that fruit with others – and if that fruit is not taken as given, let it not become a wily fox to my vine.
Let the rain come. Let it come softly or in a downpour – and let me be like an eager child who runs outside, mouth wide open, to receive the living water, a Holy Spirit Rain.
“O Holy Spirit, descend plentifully into my heart. Enlighten the dark corners of this neglected dwelling and scatter there Thy cheerful beams” (St. Augustine).
Well written post.
Simply beautiful. And I love Isaiah 58. We’ve had rain recently and it’s been such a joy after the days and weeks of hot dry weather.
Beautiful verses and post and beautiful sunset – it all goes together so well.
beautiful and perfect! yes, i too, want to sit with you on that porch in that rocker 😉 i have talked to my husband about moving to TN–we live in MS. he says, maybe one day. i love how you ask the holy spirit to fill the highs and lows of your soul–yes, Father, let it be for me as well. new words for my prayer, indeed.
thanks for stopping over at sixinthesticks–i left you a reply there. have a blessed weekend!
http://sixinthehickorysticks.blogspot.com/2011/08/million-tiny-barbie-dolls.html
btw–is it better to reply to post comments on your own blog after their comment, or to go to the blog of the comment owner and leave a note/reply? i have seen people do this differently. i have no “reply” section on my blog–not sure why, but there is no place for that, so i just have to comment back. i think you’ve been doing this a lot longer, so just wondering 😉
I don’t even know what to say. I read your words and I am speechless at the talent God has given you.
Such a beautiful post. I don’t want to say anything to take away from it.
Beautiful!
Love,
Beth
http://mydestinysharinghope.com/
I had to share you post on my FB wall. <3
beautiful wonderful words, ahhhh….soaking. thank you 🙂
Oh how lovely! I felt just like I was there and how I envied the rain. I watch our land dry out more daily. But it’s your references to the little foxes and welcoming filling by the Holy Spirit that really resonated with me. It’s a daily prayer for me that I be filled with the Holy Spirit. So full that only He shines through. Your verses comforted me and gave me new words for my prayers. I pray His blessings on you today! Smiles –
I absolutely love how you intermingle scripture verses with your writing. It just draws it all together. I want to sit in your rocking chair – then again, I’ve LOVE some rain right now. Great words from the heart – you painted amazing pictures – I can see you dancing in the rain with your then 2 year old!
your sweet words drew me in (and I love Ps. 65:9-10) 🙂
Ahhhhhhh, such refreshment for the spirit. Lovely. Very, very lovely. 🙂
Simply beautiful!
beautiful…
I love what you wrote:
“I wanted to be filled, filled like Peter with the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost, filled so much he never faltered again in his mission.”
That is my heart’s desire. I’m so tired of allowing the seeming giants in my life to take my eyes off of what God has for me. A friend wrote to me to bloom where I’m planted.
Thank you for writing from your heart. You blessed me with your words.
Debbie
Maryleigh
To be honest, posts like this one are what I love most on your blog. Posts where you open up your heart and allow us to have a glimpse of what is really happening there. The cry of your heart… the verses you quoted are all beautiful ones. Psalm 65:9-10 is just so appropriate.
The prayer is so beautiful.
I still can’t get over the fact that you are back in Tennessee. Now that you are back in the home that you love, it seems that your heart is ready to move forward again…
Love
Lidj
Hi, i found your blog through emily’s imperfect prose. This is such wonderful writing, You seem to feel every moment, pause and reflect deeper than just a glance. I love your writing and thankyou for your comment on my words
What a heartfelt post! Thank you for sharing so deep.
What a beautiful post–I especially love the image of you dancing with your two-year-old in the rain, and how vivid that memory still is to you today. I appreciate so much your encouraging words on my blog this weekend–I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said about “walking the ‘in the now’ path” and I realize that is EXACTLY what causes my discontentment to crop up–when I start to worry about whether or not the decision to move to Germany was the right one (I KNOW it was the right one, I just second-guess it all the time) and when I look too far ahead and wonder when/what it will be that we can go back “home” to the US. Today is today, and I must simply walk in that–and dance with MY toddlers in the rain! THANK YOU!
and i wonder if i’ve ever known “crucifixion courage.” what a beautiful post you’ve shared with us. i want to be filled with it all. thank you.
steph
Am thinking much about that unsung member of the Trinity–the One who coaxes me to see the beauty and dance in the rain. The “my mom is nuts” look? Yeah. I know that one.
THIS IS BEAUTIFUL! MOUTH WIDE AND ACCEPTING LIKE A CHILD….WONDERFUL!
oh friend, i love this glimpse into your life, into your heart, and the prayer to let the holy spirit rain on us… yes, i need this refreshing today. thank you.
Longing and in need of this refreshing rain… let it pour… lovely post; thank you for sharing these words.
Awesome.
Lovely post.
I feel like you’ve given us this sacred and vulnerable glimpse into your family and world, my friend. I resonate with your desire to be filled to the brim and overflowing with God’s Spirit. I need it now too–awaiting those days of hot summer when I’ll be parched and thirsty. Thanks for splashing up a visual feast and an emotional downpour! Love having you at Wedded Wed too! 🙂
It’s been raining ever since summer break began here, and I was just grumbling about that tonight as I picked up toys INSIDE instead of outside where we would like to be playing- but your prayer, your appreciation for the rain, your heart here makes me want to step outside now and soak myself in all those puddles and drops. THANK YOU for the beautiful glimpse into your life and your heart. And thanks for stopping by the Overflow today- I totally agree with your summer philosophy. I have grown to LOVE the gaps; the time to just BE, time to let spontaneous ideas erupt, and time to press through “boredom” into creativity. Just yesterday I looked out the window (in between rainstorms) and my middle daughter was building a “hut” with wood pieces and blankets. She had three brown baby dolls slung across her hip in a self-invented “snuggly” (made with a belt and a ripped up crib sheet) and she was pretending to haul water in a bucket on her head. When I asked what she was playing, she just simply said, “Africa” 🙂 Ahh.. summer. Wishing you a sweet season with your boys and more of the Spirit. May that He rain on us all!
‘Holy Spirit rain’ … yes. absolutely!
Beautiful heart prayer, friend. God hears your cries.