Summer 2011, Texas.

We were in the middle of one of the hottest summers (and longest droughts) in history.  Days upon days of no rain or relief from the blistering heat and baking sun.  What relief did come in powerful winds that whipped up the sand and dirt, sending dust everywhere, not to mention, fires fueled by the breezy conditions.

The fires were getting closer.  You could see the smoke in the air and if the wind was blowing right, you could smell the fires.  Nothing terrified me more than the thought of losing everything to a grassfire.  I had heard horror stories on the news of people losing everything they had because of wind-driven flames, some even losing their lives.

I did everything possible to keep our crop going, but little by little the heat and drought conditions consumed them, leaving me and my family desperate for hope.  It looked as if our livlihood was going to go up in smoke, figuratively speaking; we were uncertain about our future and where it would lead us.

I was afraid that we were going to have to go elsewhere where there was more moisture and farmable land, but we didn't really have the funds to move.  My wife was disabled and left unable to work after a terrible car accident, and our teenage daughter had to take care of her two younger brothers while I worked the land and tried to squeeze in time to take care of Arabella and the children.  And my only vehicle was threatening to abandon ship: twice this past week I had it in the shop with no improvements: the truck was running just as badly as it was before I had taken it in.

Well, one moring, I went out to the field after I made sure that Arabella had all she needed and made sure that the kids had been fed and tended to.  I looked at the sorry state of my crop and began to cry tears of defeat.  In desperation, I whispered a prayer to God above, but I doubt that even He was listening.  It looked as if my farm and everything I had worked for was going to go belly up.  Then I saw it, out of the corner of my eye: a splash of green peeking out from one of the pumpkin plants.  It was fresh, bright green, and held promise of new growth.

It was as if God was saying, Hold on, young man.  Trust in me.  Stand back and watch what I can do.

Well, it turned out that the plant yielded enough pumpkins to sustain me for the rest of the year.  We didn't have to move and for now, my livlihood was safe, in His capable hands.  While we didn't get nearly enough in the way of rain and needed moisture, His little miracle that He demonstrated was enough to fuel my sagging spirit and give me renewed hope.

"With God, all things are possible!" (Matthew 19:26).