A DREADED DROUGHT
I think about a dreaded drought like an irrigation-less farmer. He studies and ponders The Farmer’s Almanac along with the cloudless sky. Farmer John’s is a physical reality, especially in the Southwest. Mine is real too, but it’s not physical – mine is mental.
I’ve seen those kind of farmer’s eyes. Root beer brown Cherokee eyes. The ones with the worn out skin surrounding them that was as jagged and dry as the Southwest desert surrounding them. They looked hopeless, especially as they searched the hopeless sky, then the endless rows of pathetic crops.
My grandpa always had a fifth of whiskey stashed in his pocket to help him make it through the day. Those work days would last longer than the vicious sunshine. More whiskey and his harmonica would get him through the night. Now and then he’d find inspiration to scratch down lyrics to a new song.
I’m not a lot like Troy, but we do have some similarities. Music and writing is in my blood, along with some of the bad tendencies my grandpa’s had. I still struggle with a short fuse and have a memory like an elephant. Genetics are a peculiar thing.
A dreaded drought is inevitable for all of us regardless of what we do. Nothing earth shattering or profound or productive happens in the midst of a drought. But just like rust, our minds never rest.
I’ll keep pushing my rope up the hill of words that seems as steep as Everest right now, but I know the day will come when I do reach the top… then the downhill side will put an end to this dreaded drought.
As vast and endless as the empty Arizona sky is, it’s full of promise, just like the mind we’ve been given by God almighty. I know I’m not the only soul stumbling through a dreaded drought. Hang on. The rain will come.
Brad
Sunday, February 4, 2018 @ 9:24 am
Great great post!
Betty Draper
Sunday, February 4, 2018 @ 9:46 am
Droughts are faith builders. When I think of a drought I envision those early pioneers walking across the deserts, no rain as far as the eyes could see. Oh, but the inner eyes was fixed on a passion to get to a better place, a place where the water flows freely and rain brought forth flowers and green lush grass. But to get there they had to walk through the desert. Their faith in their vision kept them going. You know brother, I think I see some rain clouds ahead…
Betty Draper
Sunday, February 4, 2018 @ 9:46 am
Droughts are faith builders. When I think of a drought I envision those early pioneers walking across the deserts, no rain as far as the eyes could see. Oh, but the inner eyes was fixed on a passion to get to a better place, a place where the water flows freely and rain brought forth flowers and green lush grass. But to get there they had to walk through the desert. Their faith in their vision kept them going. You know brother, I think I see some rain clouds ahead… and there is a faint sound of thunder.
Betty Draper
Sunday, February 4, 2018 @ 9:47 am
sorry on the repeat,
bill (cycleguy)
Sunday, February 4, 2018 @ 2:08 pm
Great post my friend. Droughts are faith-builders for sure as Betty has said. But i also agree as you state that you keep pushing up the hill. never ever quit.
Cheryl
Sunday, February 4, 2018 @ 6:10 pm
I’m glad you press on, regardless, in spite of the lack of inspiration. God bless you, brother.
Lisa notes
Sunday, February 4, 2018 @ 6:32 pm
For a drought, you still produce some drenching words for us to drink in, Floyd. “I’ll keep pushing my rope up the hill of words that seems as steep as Everest right now, but I know the day will come when I do reach the top… then the downhill side will put an end to this dreaded drought.”
Hazel Moon
Sunday, February 4, 2018 @ 10:08 pm
No water does parch the throat as one thirsts for water – pure water or even the living water from above. I love your words as you explain the dryness of the moment. Robert’s dad did not work the fields, but he too depended on a drop or two of whiskey to keep him going. Bob says, he never saw his dad drunk, but there was always just a bit and yes his dad did have a short fuse. Lovely post Floyd.
Ed
Monday, February 5, 2018 @ 12:05 am
I hope and pray that many of us don’t walk too long through a drought of hearing God’s voice!
Pamela Williams
Monday, February 5, 2018 @ 6:25 am
Praying your word drought ends soon, Floyd. I think this post is just the beginning of a flow of words that will wash over and through you.
Martha Orlando
Monday, February 5, 2018 @ 8:41 am
Yes, indeed, the rain will come, Floyd. Have faith. Have hope. God will always provide.
Blessings!
June
Monday, February 5, 2018 @ 8:11 pm
Times of drought can also be a time of refilling. Not easy to endure but even this will look better when viewed from your rearview mirror. In the meantime, thank you for this mini oasis, brother. Good stuff, as usual. Blessings on your week!
donna
Wednesday, February 7, 2018 @ 7:03 pm
Ive been pondering a blog post and have longed to pen a worthwhile poem. I’ve only managed one poem in three years and my blog has sat silent as well. But I believe God is doing something wonderful in the deep places of my heart. Blessings to you!
saleslady371
Friday, February 9, 2018 @ 5:11 pm
Funny, I heard just today someone say that when you feel like you are hidden and wonder if God is hiding you, He actually may be doing that very thing and then….you get to display His wonder and magnificence. It may feel like a drought to us but our Maker is at work in all things.