Before the rain - Waiting with faith

There’s this moment right before it starts raining – a slight pause before the first water starts falling from the sky. It’s a moment of pure anticipation, as if the earth is holding her breath for what’s to come. Like a little kid pinching their nose before jumping into the ocean or a pool of water. Earth waits (for just a heartbeat) before the rain starts to fall. One drop at a time, until every open space is drenched, and as if what happened previously is washed away.

In the film, Under The Tuscan Sun, they tell the story of the train tracks over the Alps. “They say they built the train tracks over the Alps before there was a train that could make the trip. They built it anyway. They knew one day the train would come.” 

I believe this is true for many things in life. In the season of life that I am in right now I am constantly thinking about these things and asking these questions. Where will this road take me? Am I wasting my time and my energy? Should I rather follow a thoroughly-treaded path into the town called Familiar? 

They built the train tracks before there was a logical explanation. In a recent newsletter I used the example of a stage that we build by faith – and the size of the stage will determine the magnitude of the performance. It is easy to say that we have great ideas, and that we have great plans to put these ideas into motion. Anybody can do that. Character is tested when you are asked to put time, effort, and money into something that does not make any sense.

They built it anyway. Do you allow yourself to build the train tracks, the stage, the ark (?) before it makes sense? It’s very difficult to do something without being able to explain your reasoning behind it. You can be going strong on your own and making some progress when someone comes along and pulls rug right out from under your feet by asking something simple like ‘why?’. Why keep pouring yourself into something that you are not guaranteed will succeed?

They knew that one day the train would come that could make the trip. An act of hope can be likened to planting a tree or having a child – you are not guaranteed that the world they grow up in will be wonderful, but you hope that they will make it a little bit better for those that cross their path. You don’t even get to see the fruits they bear, of if they grow up and have children of their own. With most of the important things in life, you simply have to trust and hope that there will be a way. 

So I am holding my breath with mother earth for many things – for the hope that a train will come, that the performance will fit the size of my stage, and for the belief that rain will fall again.