The Girl With the Seeds
She ran as fast as she could, seeds spilling out of her hands as she leapt over stumps and ducked beneath branches. Her breath was heavy, but she could see the stable growing closer. As she burst through the door, she poured the seeds into an empty coffee can and quickly snapped on the lid. The young girl called to her father, overjoyed that she was able to bring back so many this time. She called his name and ran to him, the seeds ricocheting against the inside of the can. When she reached his arms, he hugged her tight and spun her around as the two laughed. This would help their family for years to come.
I love dropping into a story. I’m usually not paying attention at the beginning of a movie or a book. The writer is trying to introduce me to characters and set the scene, but I want to know what’s going on. I’ll figure out who they are later and I’ll decide for myself.
If you asked me a year ago what I would blog about, it would be this post. I know. I’m excited too. This is it. I didn’t lead with it because I wasn’t sure you were ready. But you’ve hung with me this long and I think we’re ready for it. I’ve been searching for the right words. Pausing to provide the proper emphasis. Getting acquainted with the way words fall together before I share it with you. It’s time.
The girl with the seeds…that’s me. I’ve collected them for some time now. Some were difficult to find and challenging to gather. Others were readily available and I could return as many times as I needed to find more. A precious few were painful, as I had to go through thickets and thorns to obtain them. The scars became a way of telling others where to find them, as they too had looked in the bristles and barbs. As prized as they are, there are plenty for everyone. I can return to these places and share them.
The seeds I carry are the truth. Life is full of them and they take many forms. No matter what anyone does, the truth does not change. I’ve grown to love that about it. Day and night, earth and sky, oxygen for our lungs and gravity for our feet. Sharks remain in the oceans and the earth remains on its axis. All over the world, people spend roughly nine months in the womb, progressing from cooing to moving, from smiling to speaking. We plant tomato seeds and do not expect to grow zucchini. We can count on that seed carrying just what it needs to be a tomato plant. The lilies in the fields are still beautiful and the sparrows haven’t taken on second jobs in a difficult economic climate. Expressions about the grass being greener or not seeing the forest for the trees are the result of a natural world that is easy to relate to and connect with. We learn about a chrysalis transforming into a butterfly and somewhere inside we might sense a twinge of hope that we too can change. I often tell friends it’s the “season” of life they’re in and they nod knowingly. We aren’t talking about the weather. The bitterness of winter, the regrowth of spring. It all holds true.
Truth is truth. It occurred to me over a year ago that idioms and analogies about the natural world contribute to my belief. The Bible says God is Truth and His Word remains. And you guys, it holds up. After all this time, we haven’t grown bored with beautiful things. The masterpieces of nature still take our breath away and we still bend down low to admire new life. The things it says will be hard are hard. The challenges people faced thousands of years ago are still here today. I’ve learned that the things we are called to avoid are not the blacklist of some killjoy Creator. They have natural consequences. They reduce joy and negatively impact our stories. The truth runs consistently through our creation because it was designed. How cool is that? It’s purposeful and well thought out. And we haven’t exploded yet, so we’ve got that going for us, too.
When asked, “What is the story you have to tell?” This is what came to mind. Our world is full of mistrust, miscommunication, misunderstandings. It can be lonely to feel that there’s not a solid place to land. I didn’t want you to miss it.
I could have left the seeds where I found them. I could have hidden them from others. I could have stopped gardening and growing and reaping and sowing for a simpler life. Perhaps. But I wouldn’t have the wild flowers, the blossoming trees, the fruit bearing branches, the smell of the earth, and the sweet smelling fragrance in this garden that’s grown. Of course I don’t want my life to be a coincidence or this skin I’m in to be the reaction of a billion rogue molecules. I’ve labored and toiled and laughed and lived in this skin. That alone has meaning, but I’ve watched as it all comes together. How others face similar things, how we can make sense of what we learn. How to some degree it works, considering our individuality and circumstances. Life may feel random and chaotic, like tiny explosions and bursts of light. But if you look closely, the same belt of Orion still lines up in the night sky. The big and little dipper take their place there, too. And the same star that guided Truth to a quiet stable one night long ago can light our path as we seek to find it, too.