It is “four-showers-a-day” weather. It is “I-don’t-need-a-microwave-to-melt-butter” weather. It is “I-feel-like-crying-when-I-open-the-closet-in-the-morning-because-everything-already-looks-too-hot-to-wear” weather.
In other words, it is hot season in Thailand. It is the season of short tempers and damp hair clinging to one’s neck. It is the season of fatigue and the taste of salt when you kiss your child’s cheek.
The heat sits and waits, and waits some more. It may stir, but only to re-settle with an added layer of thickness.
Turning on a fan is debatable business. It is a question of if you prefer the surrounding atmosphere to feel like a hair dryer (fan on) or like a steam room (sans fan).
It is tempting to ask, “Why hot season?”
But this year I find myself asking, “Why mangoes?” For hot season produces mangoes unparalleled in their sweet richness, fit to serve royalty, be it the queen of Sheba, England, or Thailand.
And if these oblong globes of bites of sunshine were not enough, what about the yellow waterfall flower trees? At least, that’s what our family calls the Ratchaphruek or golden shower tree (Cassia fistula) that cascades in all its golden glory during this, the hottest, part of the year.
I am reminded of Hebrews 6:7, “For land that has drunk the rain that often falls on it, and produces a crop useful to those for whose sake it is cultivated, receives a blessing from God.”
In this post-cross era, common grace still abounds. During hot season, common grace falls in the shape of mangoes and yellow waterfall flowers. There hang the mangoes, upside-down expanded raindrops. Slice one open and taste God’s love for you. There hang the yellow flowers, pouring down glory and mercy from above. One strong wind, and the dirty, dusty ground is now a golden carpet.
I still fail. I’m undoubtedly going to complain and be grumpy over the next few months. But I hope as I open my mouth and eyes to receive God’s good gifts, I will be changed a little more, and some useful crop will indeed be cultivated.
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