Petrichor, Petunias and Promises by Sharon Heagy

 

(Taken from the front deck of our farm)

           Oh, man! What a wonderful scent. Stepping out on the deck my nostrils were filled with the scent of approaching rain, even though none was falling and the sky was fairly clear. As it turns out there is a term for the smell of rain, petrichor. It was coined by a couple of Australian Scientists in 1964. Apparently during dry periods plants give off an oil that is absorbed by clay-based rocks and soil. When humidity returns, the pores of the rocks and soil absorb the moisture releasing the oil into the air. The oil mixes with a bacteria called geosmin creating that aromatic perfume signalling the coming rain. The scent becomes stronger when rainfall arrives provided it is not a full-fledged downpour. The raindrops trap tiny air bubbles on the ground which then shoot up, much like the bubbles in a carbonated beverage. Bursting, they release that sweet earthy aroma that tickles our noses. Having endured drought years in our farming career, that smell is the smell of heaven relaying the promise that droughts will eventually give way to God’s blessed restoration of the land. Even when all we get is the smell without the rain, we know one day the rains will return.

            Popping back into the house from the deck I continued filling some seed trays with dirt, adding a little water to the soil to make it stick together. Taking tweezers, I carefully pushed little coated petunia seeds into the prepared trays, 72 plants per tray. Then I watered them again and set the tray on a table where the sun and light streamed in from the east and southeast. Then waiting began. Waiting for the fascinating process whereby a sprout would crack through the seed crust like a hatchling from an egg, pushing upward towards the light. Gaining vigor from God given energy created in the seed itself, the sprout will finally poke through the surface and into the sunlight with an ‘ahhh’ sigh of relief. (Well, at least in my imagination) There is a promise in the planting. Take a seed and watch it grow. A miracle is encapsulated in each tiny little specimen.

            But nothing grows without water and God is the ultimate source of all that nutritious elixir to grow His plants. And His people. And His writers. All need the watering of the Lord to grow.

            When we submit our writing to Him, He provides the seed, an idea. A thought or two. As He pours into us, the seed cracks open into a word, a sentence, a paragraph, a page. Now you’re on a roll. But then come the dry spells, times of frustration or times of imposed rest. Words won’t come or if they do they are without power or passion. A jumbled mess. Yet the Lord is still there, faithful, waiting for us to turn like a sunflower to the sun as His fragrance leads us to His presence. The scent of nourishing holy rain. ‘Ahhhh.’

            As the Lord pours onto us and into us, our work grows and expands and eventually blossoms, giving off a fragrance all its own. Unique to the writer and their partnership with the Lord, no two alike. And perhaps if we have courage to share our work with others, a new seed of God’s shall be planted in someone else’s heart.