Hello, my friends! My name is Gleniece.
Living in the Desert Southwest has been a challenge. It has also been a blessing. Join me as I share my thoughts on sparsity and abundance, longing and fulfillment, and desperation and hope while living out my faith in a dry and lonesome land.
I’m a wife of over thirty-five years, a mother of 5, and a child of God. I homeschool our last two children, coax herbs to grow in my scant desert garden, and maintain my sanity through prayer and trust in God. (Merlot and some extra-dark chocolate are extremely helpful, too.)
I am married to a mighty man. Mighty in stature, mighty in the word of God, mighty in his patience with me all these many years. He is my Mighty Man.
I’ve learned if you live in the desert long enough you become drawn to water.
Drawn to that earthy smell hanging in the air, to the sheen on the rocks, and the steady staccato drumming on your roof.
Drawn to the diamond drops glistening on the creosote bush and dripping off your eaves.
Drawn to the glorious headlong rush of water in the wash.
We get less than 10 inches of rain a year in the Desert Southwest. When it rains, we lift our faces to the sky and smile. This is our gift.
Desert rain is the blessing we wait for.
Rain falling on a parched and weary land embodies the hope I seek, and the peace I crave. With that in mind, I created this blog, Desert Rain.
Desert Rain is a lifestyle blog where the style is always Christ and the life we live is continually watered by the word of God.
Whether we live in the mountains, at the coast, on the plains, or in the tropics, without God leading us, we all wander in our own private desert—void of understanding, lacking in peace, withering away for want of righteousness and truth.
As water is life to the desert, so Christ is the wellspring of our lives. He fills and fulfills to overflowing.
I am a solitary, wind-tossed wildflower on the vast and dusty desert floor. My day-to-day circumstances, like the land surrounding me, are arid and seemingly desolate, but I know my heart must stay moist, saturated with the Spirit of Truth.
You may feel parched and lonely, too. As lonesome sisters in Christ, let us get our feet wet in the Living Water and splash in the puddles with child-like joy. Though we are separated by many miles, let us turn our faces upward as one, “for it is time to seek the Lord, till he come and rain righteousness upon you” (Hosea 10:12).
I thank our merciful God He has given us to each other—you, my sister in Christ, my familiar friend—to exhort, to admonish, to lift, and to comfort.
Abiding in the Vine,
I am a companion to all them that fear thee, and of them that keep thy precepts.