Weathering the Drought

Living in the Midwest, it seems like every casual conversation involves the weather. "What do you think of the heat?" "Dry enough for ya?" "Think we'll get any rain this week?" Worse yet is when I find myself in at a table or in a car with a couple of farmers and hear nothing except tractors, land, or the current repair agenda.

The last few months, though, the topic has been the drought. Since a number of you have asked me about it, I thought I'd even throw in a couple of pictures just to make you happy.

Since my place is next to the mighty (that's a joke) Sioux River, my gauge for precipitation has always been how high the river is. Be thankful you can't see the dead deer in the middle of the river. Be very. very. thankful.

Jerome just finished harvesting—Jerome's favorite season of farming and my least favorite. The crops? In corn, I'd say we usually average (and this is my guess because I'm not in the least educated about this) 170 bushels of corn per acre. This year's worst field: seven. The best: 100.

But if you're expecting me to complain about the drought, I'm sorry. Here's what I know to be true: Jerome and I have been married 22 years, and I have never seen a drought like this. I figure I can either complain about the one year or rejoice in the other 21. Why? The same land that is dusty and brown and ugly also gives us this:

The way I see it: we can grumble about our situations because sometimes life is hard. Sometimes money isn't there. Sometimes bills are hard to pay. The list goes on: Sometimes people are stupid. Sometimes there are accidents. Sometimes people hurt us.

But always God is good. Always someone has our backs. Always our blessings outnumber our problems a million to one. And for that we should be thankful.