For the past several weeks, my husband has waited for the ground around our new home to dry enough so he could level the ground and plant grass seed. The problem has been the rain. Doug would spend one afternoon plowing, and then it would rain for three days straight, making the ground too soggy to walk on, much less drive a massive John Deere on top of.
Even my 36 pound son Wyatt got his boots stuck in the mud while playing in the "yard," which (of course) resulted in him walking barefoot back to the porch, crying all the way. Since then, my children have spent their outside playtime on the porch...but they're not happy about it.
One daredevil will "accidentally" roll the ball off the porch. Then there's little mama Amelia who watches her brothers and screams at them when she sees a daring finger dangling over the concrete edge to defiantly scrape the mud.
Thankfully, last week, my husband caught a good three-day stretch for plowing and leveling. What once looked as lumpy as a bowl of brown flower that someone had started cutting butter into now looks like a crumb coat layer of frosting on a chocolate cake.
Saturday morning, he plowed one last time, then went out to hand seed the soil....and it started raining. Again.
Saran wrap atop the seeder to keep the seeds loose and dry until they hit the earth, he did what had to be done. Wet, muddy, and with a captive audience that wanted nothing more than to help daddy, he was a hero to this stuck-on-the-porch-with-kids mommy.
Today, three rain showers later, I noticed tender blades of green peeking through, glistening in the afternoon sun. 
The first of September may seem more like the start of a season of harvest rather than of rebirth. But it's a reminder that our God is so big, He can create life where there was none...both in and out of season.
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