Making babies

In the fall two years ago, I planted bulbs. Dug holes. Plop. Down under. Into the dirt they went. Then covered up. More dirt. I really had no idea what I was doing, or why bulbs had to go under like that, but I had hope that in the spring, and without much effort, they would sprout into something lovely.

Thus began a season of hiddenness in my life. Like the bulbs, I went down under...thriving somehow mysteriously in the cold, wet, dark, ground. No one could see me. Yet I knew I belonged there for a season. I knew it would be uncomfortable. But hope hung on because the spring always comes.

When spring did come, I found myself afraid to look. I refused to go into the back yard to see if anything had happened because if nothing came up, I would know that was symbolic of me and I didn't think I could handle it. Eventually, I did look. And there were my little plants. Babies. But green and growing. My heart lifted...Suddenly it seemed effortless.

I have no idea why life is like that. Jesus said that unless a seed falls to the ground and dies it will not bear fruit. Its His master plan. It's only after death that life comes. And the growing part happened without a single ounce of effort on my part...I just had to have enough courage to dig a hole, bury my seed, wait, then look.

I've been thinking lots about seeds and plants and weeds lately. You see, this year, in my garden, I have discovered a multiplying going on. It was totally unexpected and made my heart do one of those leap things where it almost comes out (God invented skin for moments like those). So I have been collecting the babies and finding new homes for them...and the anticipation continues, but in a whole new way...these are babies I can already see. What a glorious season! This time, my plant reproduced out of fertility, not death...and opportunity expanded without boundaries.

So many different kinds of seeds. So many different seasons in life. All of them worth while. Full of purpose. Some hidden. Others spreading.

Guess that's where I just have to make sure that I have room. And when I run out of room, I must share. And when I see a weed creeping in, I grab my shovel and yank it out to preserve that which is precious...My heart is precious. Your heart is precious. It is molded by the seasons. It needs to be guarded. And let loose. And spread around.

John 14:26-27 "...The Holy Spirit whom the Father will send at my request, will make everything plain to you. He will remind you of all the things I have told you. I'm leaving you well and whole. That's my parting gift to you. Peace. I don't leave you the way you're used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don't be upset. Don't be distraught. "