seeds

This year, there have been several times of prayer when I have had pictures of bulbs and seeds growing underground.... Something is happening that we cannot see and I trust that God is at work. My friend Katherine and I talked about this at Christmas and she shared with me some reflections looking back over the last decade as she has gone through so much loss (her brother was killed in a car accident, her father died, her step father died).  She talked about how at first she thought that God must be teaching her a lesson and that she must have had something big she needed to learn. But over the years, she sees how that was not really the case. It was not about this, but much more of a process that through all these things that God was cultivating trust in her heart.  Isn't that what life is all about in many ways? 

Anyway, this poem is another one about seeds and growth and trust... I love the imagery here and thought you'd relate to it too... XOXO 

Seeds under the ground on a mid-winter’s night

sleep with their dreams of Spring.

They are dancing, tunneling, settling in,

finding just the right place to begin

their sprouting. But first, they must rest,

gather to themselves the vision

of what they will be.

Is it faith—this survival spirit, this

willingness to abide, to seek darkness,

even revel in it, to be willingly

unnoticed for long months of the year?

I want to believe in my own renewing,

let body and spirit rest, refuse to exhaust myself

in someone else’s expectations, grow old

before my time, cast off, disposed of.

I want to be recycled endlessly, and flower again

and yet again unexpectedly, bloom into

a surprising color for an old woman, ripe

with wrinkled youth and vigorous beauty,

with twinkling eyes in deep sockets,

making them wonder

just how I do it.

-Victoria Miller