I can see the green again, I can feel bits of the future falling on my shoulders, but the new season is not here…yet.
When you live in the woods, and it’s 100 + degrees, and there is no air-conditioner, and there is no rain, and you cannot see the mountains through the smoke, and the earth is on fire, hoping for June becomes a way of life.
In June the rain will fall. It will fall hard, and it will fall constant. It will fall until November, and then it will give way to the winter.
It’s the middle of May, and almost every day now, we get a little bit of rain. Mild precipitation has taken the edge off of the heat, but it’s still hot. It’s sticky. It’s humid.
In Texas, we have a saying: “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.” People say this all of the time. Sometimes we say it to log a complaint against creation, other times we say it to brag. “It may be hot where you live, but it’s not like it is here in Texas. It’s not the heat, you see, it’s the humidity.” When I hear people mention humidity in Thailand, it’s hard not to laugh. I smile as I think of my past, as I think of my people.
Right now, I’m trying to decide what’s worse: Intense heat, or bugs. They are everywhere. And in the evening, they’re in our house – swarming. We turn off most of our lights, but they still find us. We have screens on every door and every window, but they’re resourceful, they find a way in. Warm, sticky, buggy.
In the midst of this we are preparing for our next group, we are preparing for a conference in June, we are living our lives among these people, and we are waiting. We are waiting for a tomorrow that we’ve seen glimpses of in the drops that have turned the brown to green. We continue to wait for the rain. And beyond it, well, that’s were you are.
