Sowing Seeds

Sowing seeds has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. In my early childhood, my family planted a garden each summer, and since establishing my own home, I have carried on this tradition of planting. This year, when I tore open the first packet of seeds, I was struck by how tiny they were. There, in my hand, lay tiny specks which would sustain us. I almost laughed out loud to think of it. With faith, I gently laid each seed on the soil, believing that with time, warmth from the sun, and care, these seeds would sprout into lush plants to feed us.

Each day, I tend to my seeds, rolling up the greenhouse sides on hot days, and snugging the sides down tightly when the winds bring cool temperatures. I keep the soil moist and pull any unwanted weeds that may try to choke out the plants that will provide us with sustenance. As the days pass, tiny pale green shoots push up through the earth. Their green, a stark contrast against the brown soil, bring a sense of hope as I leave the long winter behind and yearn for warmer days. Soon, I can pick among the tiny leaves, preparing a salad for our dinner with the tender young foliage. 

Since January, I have been recording the blessings of each day. Sometimes, it is difficult to find things to write down, as I am conditioned to think that only the grand things in life count as blessings. I must search out  the smallest of gifts, looking for them in unlikely places. As I hold a handful of seeds in my hands, I think of the similarities between these seeds and the tiniest, most improbable gifts. If I take those little gifts and blessings, and nurture them, pulling out the weeds of doubt and fear that prevent them from flourishing, in return, they will grow abundantly, and I will find much reward.