When it rains, it pours.

Sometimes, the rain starts as a drizzle, and gradually increases until you can’t see through the downpour. Other times, the heavens open all at once and it violently unleashes itself. No matter the method, the end result is the same: you are soaking wet.

I think hardships in life are quite similar. Troubles may gradually build, and build, and build- until you are overwhelmed by their number. Or, great and sudden calamities may take ahold of you.

Most recently, I experienced the former rainstorm of gradual troubles. At the beginning, my spirits were merely dampened. I was committed to maintaining a positive outlook and drawing spiritual meaning from said troubles. But as more troubles began to heap themselves upon my head (namely: ice storms, pent-up toddlers, burst water pipes, last-minute Airbnb stays, phones breaking…) I felt my stubbornly positive outlook slipping away and just longed for reprieve.

Deep winter has set her claws into my soul

sickness circles like incessant gnats

domestic utilities fail, falling prey

to cold, long days

Spirits as low as these temps

patience thin as old socks

feeling like a tropical bird

in an iron-clad cage

Yet my damnable pride

is thoroughly set-in

am I making myself,

my family, miserable?

In the pit's rocky bottom

from above,

a robin

poops on my head

And yes, while bemoaning my inconvenient miseries, said bird did poop on my head.

Like Job rending his garments and calling for God to explain his hardships, often I would like a loud and clear Divine Revelation.

But Jesus used simple parables to explain rich spiritual truths. If we keep our eyes and ears open, the simplest moments in our lives can bring spiritual revelation.

Today I sat down with my toddler and read the Frog and Toad story “A List” by Arnold Lobel. In this short story Toad (the less sensible of the amphibian pair) decided to make a list of what he wanted to accomplish that day. But instead of a complex checklist, this is what he wrote:

He proceeds to quickly cross the preliminary items off the list as he goes about his morning, and then journeys to Frog’s house. Everything is going swimmingly. But during his walk with Frog, suddenly, the wind blows the list out of his hand.

“‘Help!’ cried Toad. ‘My list is blowing away. What will I do without my list?’”

What a silly list, I thought. Toad is so silly.

Then I realized… oh no. I am Toad.

Here I am, clutching so dearly to the conveniences of life that make it easier. Dishwashers, laundry machines, an orderly house, my comfy bed. My phone. When these things start to break or are unavailable, it feels like my world is being upended.

But these things are just like Toad’s list. I feel like I need them to live, but really, I don’t. I don’t even need them to have a happy life. Yes, they make my life easier, but they are not necessary.

I was pondering the Orthodox monastics today. The monks and nuns now and throughout history who live simply, without phones, commutes, or fancy gadgets to make their life easy. Yet it seems that this lack in convenience doesn’t lead to increased troubles- confoundingly and enticingly- it leads to increased joy.

I watch my children playing joyfully on our dusty concrete floors. Contentedly eating off of paper plates. Moving from place to place without complaint. They live simply, happily. They trust their parents will provide for them even when things in their small world are different.

In the Frog and Toad story, Toad bemoans his lost list, and Frog just sits quietly beside him until Toad finds peace again.

Frog and Toad A List, illustration by Arnold Lobel

Lord, let me trust You through all things. Let me bear my inconveniences in peace and happiness, knowing that You are always near.

Glory to God for all things.

The List

On stewarding tomatoes

Fools for Christ