He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed, miracles that cannot be counted. He provides rain for the earth; he sends water on the countryside.—Job 5:9–10 (NIV)

I looked out at my market garden in despair. The thermometer was reading 108, and my squash plants’ leaves were wilted to the ground. The broccoli and cauliflower were looking no better. I’d given up on my herb beds weeks ago. Crispy brown twigs were all that was left of the thyme, rosemary, and basil I’d started from seed and tended so carefully for months. The heat was brutal and relentless. 

To make matters much worse, our garden well wasn’t keeping up with the demand, so I’d been hauling water from our house, a mile up the road, and dumping it into a large holding tank. From there, it got pumped into drip hoses that delivered the water to the plants. But no matter how hard I worked, there just wasn’t enough to go around. The plants were on their last legs. I was losing this fight. 

Until the following morning. Stepping out into the day, braced for more wind and heat, I was shocked to find the air fresh and clean. And there were . . . puddles. It had rained! I dashed to the garden and dug my fingers into its soil. Even inches down, it was saturated. 

I sank down onto the path, humbled to my core, and acutely aware of the enormous amount of energy it would have taken me to bring this volume of water down onto my garden. In one night, with a singular small storm system, God had accomplished what I’d not been able to in weeks of backbreaking work.