Making the Most of It

Designed to receive, but having learned to protect, it's easy to miss goodness that shows up for us. And we miss out on making the most of it.

Music by Scott Holmes - A Wee Tipple 
Non Copyright Music 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:09

Rain in August. It was sorely needed today. The brown spots in the yard were begging for it. When realizing what was about to go down, I walked outside and quickly moved my pots out to the yard, grateful for the coming rescue, knowing I had neglected watering them the night before. The plants certainly looked thirsty and I'm sure were also grateful to be rescued. And then back to the porch I went, moving my chair away from the edge towards the center, hoping to enjoy the rain without getting soaked myself. It was perfect. Coffee on the porch in the rain. There's nothing quite like it. It was a constant steady rain, and as I sat there sipping my coffee, I couldn't help but smile and watched as the plants got watered by the sky. In two of the pots there was a humongous plant. Don't ask me its name because I can't remember, but it needed a good pruning. It had large dark leaves and purple veins. Embedded in the center of the leaves was a vein so deep it created a crevice of sorts that allowed the water to run down the middle into the center of the plant. The shamrocks, however, responded differently to the rain. The leaves closed up tight, giving more than enough room for the rain to drop between the stems directly into the soil, but also laid so vertically flat against each other. Every raindrop would also run straight down into the ground. They looked like tiny little rockets about to blast off. And the lamb's ear, ever so soft, allowed the droplets to form on its fuzzy white leaves, giving it time to slowly soak in and change their white appearance to green for a short time. It suddenly occurred to me that each plant had its own mode of receiving. The plant had its own way of taking in the rain and making the most of it. And I began to wonder, what is my mode of receiving? Do I live each day ready for goodness? And is my heart bent in such a way that it takes in any goodness it receives and lets it go straight into the center of my soul? And like the lamb's ear, am I soft, vulnerable enough to soak in any good that comes my way? Or am I hard, defensive, expecting anything but goodness, and unable to make the most of it when it does appear? And if so, it's okay. There are countless reasons for hardness, cynicism, and defensiveness. It's all for protection. Protection from being let down, from betrayal and abandonment, from many terrible things. But when I look at those whose paths I've come across during the past several years, those who've been abandoned, set up, left down, locked up, left to fend for themselves, and brutally ignored. No matter how defensive, how cynical, when they come face to face with love, with real love, over time they can't help but respond. And it's also true for our own hearts. We can't help but respond. Each one of us is designed with a mode of receiving, and after life gets particularly hard for a while, those modes of receiving allow too much pain in our lives, too much disappointment, too much grief, too much time gone by, and we close up and build defenses. Instead of being in receiving mode and letting life in, we pivot towards protection mode, intent on keeping life out. And so, as I sat there on my porch, watching the rain trickle down the center of the leaves, drop into the soil, and soak into the fuzz, I longed for many things. For goodness to respond to, real, actual, live, face-to-face goodness that shows up today, tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year. Goodness that nudges us open when we're closed, that reminds us to put down our guard and receive, whatever that looks like, a beautiful sunrise or the night sky, a kindness from a stranger, a cup of coffee and good conversation, rain in August. However it shows up, whatever goodness looks like, may we let it run down into the very center of our souls and make the most of it.