What's growing?

A few months ago when the weather was starting to warm up, I went out to my front yard and began turning over a little patch of earth.  It's just a small corner, but I filled it to the brim with flowers from a local greenhouse.  I chose plants that I love and hoped would do well in that spot.  Red geraniums, chartreuse sweet potato vine, white alyssum and yellow pansies all found a home in that small corner.

At the risk of failure, I also planted some morning glory seeds.  Seeds are strange things.  They look dead, lifeless.  I opened that paper package, poured tiny brown pellets out into my hand and wondered if they would really grow.  How can life come from something like that, something hard and dry?  Gardening has to be an act of faith because I put those seeds in the ground, watered them and waited.  For weeks I saw nothing.  Everyday I would go outside and check for progress, only to be disappointed.  If I had dug the seeds up, I would have found tiny roots extended from the broken shells, but I didn't.  I patiently waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And finally, one day, something was there.  Life.  Life had found a way through that hard shell, through the soil and out to the sun. 

Now those tiny seeds have become giant plants that have swallowed the sheperd's hook I put out for them to climb on and threaten to swallow the baskets hanging nearby.  They are climbing up the porch post and will, in time, climb across a string I attached and down the other side.  In the morning their dark purple blooms flaunt their beauty and soak up the light.  And I sit amazed.   Amazed that out of what looked to be a hopeless situation, sprung life.  Even in the midst of darkness, covered with soil, life was finding its way to the surface. 

I think about those seeds and what has become of them.  Truthfully, I did nothing more than sow them into the ground and wait.  So, I wonder about the seeds I'm planting today.  No, I'm not adding more seeds to an already over-planted patch of ground.  I'm not adding more pots to my overloaded front porch.  But I am loving my family.  I'm folding clothes and putting away dishes and making dinner.  I'm cuddling my daughter and I'll kiss my husband when he walks through the door.  And those are all seeds of love.  And if I know anything, every seed planted bears a harvest.  Life always finds a way through death and light always shines through the darkness.

What are you planting today?

There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth: A right time to plant and another to reap.  Ecclesiastes 3:1-2