"Rain in abundance, O God…" Psalms 68:9"
Dear God, Almighty, have you looked down here lately?
You should see it: burned lawns, dying trees and wilting flowers. Draught-stricken doesn't tell the story.
Ranchers are fit to be tied. Lack of rain has inflated the cost of feed, forcing them to sell off their herds, resulting in drastically lower returns.
Our corn yields are pitiful. Dried out fields have produced stubby stalks and deformed ears, creating a corn fungus breeding ground.
All of this is driving up food prices, you know. Since ours is a corn dependent planet; we'll have to pay much more for everything. For goodness sakes, even toothpaste has a corn in it!
And, that's only the beginning. Our forests and grasslands have been transformed from lush vegetative oases to prime kindling; lightning, now considered dry, strikes without rain.
The slightest spark sets off massive wildfires, turning our land into blazing infernos, raging for days, in some cases, weeks, even months.
Hundreds of thousands of acres of Ponderosa pines, blue spruce, firs, aspens, maples, wild flowers and tall grass prairies have gone up in flames.
I don't know if I'm supposed to ask, but here goes.
Why haven't you done something about this? We know Mother Nature really doesn't care what economic bracket a person is in. Not sure if she has a bee in her bonnet or a burr under her saddle, but Mother Nature sure as heck isn't being nice.
We're thinking she must live somewhere in your neighborhood, so would you please knock on her door and tell her a thing or two about all that we're enduring?
By the way, the forecast isn't very pretty. The next few months are predicted to be – you guessed it – hot and dry with above normal temperatures and below normal precipitation.
What's with that?
We admit, it has rained some here and there – a whole whopping four-hundredths of an inch. That's not what we call rain – it's more like the sweat off our brows. Let's face it, at this rate; we're pretty much done for.
All of this has us wondering what did we do to irk You. Huh, God? Did our whining finally get to you? Are You tired of us squeezing You into our plans or completely leaving You out?
Even so, why pick on us? Have we been that bad?
Or, are You in cahoots with those global warming nuts who want us to downsize our large living, starting with our big gas-guzzling cars – and if we don't, we're doomed to a hell on Earth existence?
Look around, would you? In the morning, parched birds abandon crusty bird baths. Our lawns haven't been cut in weeks.
And what's with the weathermen? It seems like every other day they talk up a storm over the possibility of rain. But the next day is same ole, same ole. Obviously, they don't have a direct link to You.
If I hear them say it looks like rain one more time, and it doesn't, I'm going to open a window and scream.
Oh, God, we beseech You to rain on our parades and parties and picnics. Fill our aquifers. Drench our fields. Nourish our gardens. Restore our vegetation. Wash away our iniquities.
If You do, we will never complain about another thing again. We'll be good. We promise. Amen.
2012 © Copyright Paula Damon.
A resident of Southeast South Dakota, Paula Bosco Damon is a national award-winning columnist. Her writing has won first-place in competitions of the National Federation of Press Women, South Dakota Press Women and Iowa Press Women. In the 2009, 2010 and 2011 South Dakota Press Women Communications Contests, her columns have earned eight first-place awards. To contact Paula, email boscodamon.paula@gmail, follow her blog at firstname.lastname@example.org and find her on FaceBook.