God Brings the Rain – By Phoenix Rising
Hey loves, it’s Phoenix here. I’m writing to you today from a place I never imagined I’d be— sitting in a cell at 26 years old, a mother of two beautiful babies who I miss more than words can express. But you know what? Sometimes God plants us in the most unexpected soil so our roots can grow deeper than they ever could in comfortable ground.
Today, I want to talk about something that’s been weighing heavily on my heart and transforming my entire perspective: total dependence on God. Not the kind of dependence where we say a quick prayer and then run off to fix everything ourselves, but the kind where we literally have no choice but to wait on Him, trust Him, and watch Him work in ways we could never orchestrate on our own.
The Garden vs. The Crop Field
Let me paint you a picture that’s been on my mind constantly. Imagine you have a small garden in your backyard—maybe some tomatoes, herbs, and a few flowers. Every morning, you can grab your watering pail, walk outside, and give those plants precisely what they need. You’re in control. You can measure the water, check the soil, and adjust as needed. It feels good. That sense of being able to handle things yourself is essential.
Now picture a farmer standing at the edge of a massive crop field—hundreds of acres stretching out as far as the eye can see. Corn, wheat, soybeans swaying in the breeze. Can you imagine that farmer trying to water all of that with a bucket? Walking row after row, acre after acre, trying to provide enough water to sustain all those crops? It’s impossible. Absolutely impossible. That
farmer has to plant those seeds, do the work they can do, and then look up at the sky and pray for rain. They have to depend entirely on God to send the natural rain clouds, the storms, the showers that will bring life to that entire field.
That’s the difference between trying to manage our little controlled gardens versus surrendering to God’s plan for the massive field of our lives.
Sarah’s Story: Planted in Unexpected Soil
I want to tell you about someone I met here. We’ll call her Sarah—she’s become a sister to me in this place. Sarah came to the county jail after her court date, and let me tell you, she came in angry, confused, and feeling abandoned. Her attorney? Ghost. Silent. Weeks would go by without a visit, without a call, without any sign that anyone was working on her case or fighting for her freedom.
One day, Sarah was venting about it during rec time, pacing back and forth as her frustration poured out. “It’s like they just planted me here and forgot about me,” she said, her voice breaking. “My attorney planted this seed and isn’t even bothering to water it. What kind of sense does that make?”
I listened to her, feeling every word because I’d been in that same headspace when I first got here. But then something inside me shifted, and I heard myself saying something that surprised even me.
“Sarah,” I said gently, “maybe that’s exactly where you’re supposed to be right now.” She stopped pacing and looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Hear me out,” I continued. “Yeah, your attorney planted you here like a seed. And yeah, they’re not coming around to water you—to visit, to update you, to do all the things you think they should be doing. But maybe, just maybe, this is where you need to be deeply rooted and totally dependent on God to work. Maybe this is where He brings the rain.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears, and she sat down hard on the bench beside me. “What do you mean?” she whispered.
“Think about it,” I said, reaching for her hand. “When we’re out there in the world, we think we’re in control. We’ve got our plans, our attorneys, our people, our resources. We’re watering our little gardens with our little pails, thinking we’ve got this. But in here? We can’t do any of that. This is the crop field, Sarah. This situation is too big for us to handle on our own. We have to depend on God to bring the natural rain—His favor, His timing, His justice, His miracles. We have to trust that He’s working even when we can’t see it, even when nobody else is showing up.”
The Breaking Point That Became My Breaking Through
That conversation with Sarah took me back to my own breaking point about three months into my time here. I remember lying on my bunk at night, staring at the ceiling, feeling completely helpless. My kids were being taken care of by family, but I was missing everything—bedtimes, first days of school, skinned knees I couldn’t kiss, tears I couldn’t wipe away. My case felt stuck. My attorney was busy with other clients. My family was doing what they could, but everyone had their own lives, their own struggles.
I felt like that seed Sarah talked about—just planted somewhere and forgotten, left to either grow or die on my own.
But that’s when God started doing something in me that I never expected. When I finally stopped trying to water myself, stopped trying to make things happen through my own efforts, stopped trying to control what I couldn’t control—that’s when the rain started to come.
It didn’t come all at once. It came in small showers at first. A letter from my daughter, accompanied by a drawing, made me cry for an hour. A Scripture verse that jumped off the page
during a chapel service and spoke directly to my situation. A sudden, unexplainable peace during a tough day. A breakthrough in my case that my attorney said “just happened,” but I knew was God moving on my behalf.
God was watering this field of my life in ways I could never have done myself. He was sending rain to places I didn’t even know were dry. He was growing things in me—patience, faith, humility, strength, compassion—that never would have developed in my comfortable little garden out there in the world.
What Total Dependence Really Means
Now, let me be honest with you. Total dependence on God doesn’t mean sitting back and doing nothing. That farmer still has to plant the seeds, prepare the soil, and do their part. But they have to recognize what’s in their control and what isn’t.
For me, total dependence means:
I pray every single morning before my feet hit the floor. I read my Bible not because I’m supposed to, but because it’s the water I need to survive each day. I’m working on myself—going to every program offered, getting my GED, dealing with the trauma and choices that led me here. I’m being the best mom I can be from in here—writing letters, making calls when I can, praying over my babies constantly.
But I’ve also lost control of the outcomes. I can’t force my court date to come faster. I can’t make the judge rule in my favor. I can’t control what’s happening on the outside or who’s showing up for me. That’s God’s department. That’s where I need the rain, and only He can bring it.
For Sarah, total dependence meant stopping the daily panic attacks about her case. It meant spending less time obsessing over why her attorney wasn’t calling and more time on her knees asking God to work it out. It meant focusing on being present in her recovery programs instead of being mentally checked out, waiting for someone to rescue her.
And you know what? Just two weeks after our conversation, Sarah got news that her case was being reviewed by a different attorney who actually cared. Connections were being made that her original attorney never pursued. Witnesses were coming forward. Things were shifting. The rain was coming, and it had nothing to do with her original attorney’s efforts—it was all God orchestrating things behind the scenes.
The Harvest is Coming
Here’s what I’m learning about these massive crop fields of our lives: they produce bigger harvests than our little gardens ever could. When we try to control everything, we limit what God can do. We cap our own growth. We stay small.
But when we’re planted in impossible situations, when we’re totally dependent on God to bring the rain, when we have no choice but to look up and trust—that’s when He can grow something in us and through us that’s beyond anything we could have imagined.
I don’t know what your crop field looks like today. Maybe you’re in here with me, feeling planted in a place you never wanted to be. Perhaps you’re on the outside but facing a situation that’s too big for your little bucket to handle. Maybe you’re watching someone you love go through something you can’t fix.
Whatever it is, I want to encourage you: stop trying to water a crop field with a pail. You’re going to exhaust yourself, feel like a failure, and still not get the results you need.
Instead, plant your seeds. Do what you can do. Work where you can work. But then look up at the sky and pray for rain. Depend totally on God to bring what only He can get. Trust that He sees your field. Trust that He knows what it needs. Trust that He will send the rain in His perfect timing.
I’m watching Him do it in my life every single day. The rain is coming, sometimes in drizzles, sometimes in downpours, but always exactly when it’s needed. My roots are growing deeper than they ever have before. And I genuinely believe that when the harvest comes—when I get out of here, when I’m reunited with my babies, when this season is behind me—the crop is going to be more abundant than anything I could have grown in my comfortable little garden.
Sarah’s learning it too. We’re all learning it in here. And maybe that’s the real purpose of these impossible places—not to destroy us, but to teach us total dependence on a God who is totally dependable.
So let it rain, Father. Let it rain.
From My Heart to Yours
To my babies reading this someday: Mama is being watered by God’s rain right now, and I’m growing into the woman you deserve. I love you more than life.
To everyone walking through their own crop field: Keep looking up. The rain is coming. God hasn’t forgotten about your field.
And to myself on the hard days: Phoenix, you’re not buried. You’re planted. There’s a difference. And what God is growing in you right now will feed multitudes later.
Keep rising,
Phoenix Rising
Mother, Daughter, Seed, Harvest
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” — James 1:2-4