Hot pink hope blooms outside my window.
I eye the tender zinnia. She is not the tallest nor the healthiest I have ever seen yet, against all odds, there she stands among the weeds. I marvel at her tenacity.
After many failed attempts to keep the dogs out of the garden, the fenced-off patch of carefully weeded and lovingly planted soil remains barren, cratered with the dogs’ late night escapades.
The children and I had spent long hours preparing the garden, trying to create the perfect environment for a fruitful harvest. But despite every effort to fortify and protect our precious place of seedling safety, night after night our dogs would wreck havoc within the boarders of our sacred space.
Nathan would try to redirect me. “Maybe you’re not supposed to have a garden this season. Why don’t you focus on what God has put in front of you right now?”
Of course he was right. I had my priorities to tend to: homeschooling our children, trying to make time to write, building relationships with the women God had put in my life...I probably did not have time to tend to a garden as well.
But I simply could not get the garden-injustice out of my mind; all this effort to bring forth beauty only to have it stolen away. One morning, in an act of desperation, or determination, or both, I made my way to the garage. I was a woman on a mission.
“What are you looking for, Mommy,” Caleb asked inquisitively. The garage was not my domain, as he well knew.
“A plastic shopping bag.”
Not just any bag. A bag full of dried zinnia heads, full of seeds that should have been planted springs ago if not for those meddling dogs. A bag full of promise that something might bloom the radiance of life in this broken yard. A bag full of hibernating hope, waiting to be released to its full potential.
I handed Caleb and Adara a dried flower and kept one for myself. I explained how each seemingly dead flower held dozens and dozens of seeds and that each seed, if it took root, would become a flower of its own. I carefully pulled the seeds out of my own dried blossom and watched as the children followed my lead.
“But Mommy,” Caleb asked, “what about the dogs? Won’t they dig up where we plant the seeds?”
“Yes, they probably will. That is why we are going to plant a lot of seeds, all over the whole yard, and we will wait and hope that maybe, just maybe, one of those seeds will grow into a bright and beautiful flower.”
And with that, we began. We must have sown hundreds of seeds! We laughed and danced and skipped as we scattered our tiny treasures. In grassy areas; in a corner with hard ground; among the rocks; among the weeds; even in the hole-riddled garden; the children and I sowed everywhere!
Rains came and went and, after careful inspection of our planting locations, only about 15 sprouts emerged, none in our “garden” plot. But we were so excited to see the little, two-leafed greens peeking their heads out of unlikely earth we could only rejoice in the expectation of the flowers to come. Daily we monitored the progress, fully invested in these precious few which had taken root.
Somewhere in the process I had a revelation about sowing the priceless seeds of the Gospel of Christ. I had spent so much of my life trying to get all the steps right, trying to create a perfect environment in which to share the love of Jesus with those who were unfamiliar with His saving grace and abundant life. I wanted a safe, sheltered environment, one which I controlled, to dispense the seeds of greatest hope. And in effort to protect myself in the process of evangelism, I clutched tightly to my seeds. Most times I only showed my seeds to other Believers. And after admiring them I would tuck them safely away for the "right time and place."
And nothing grew.
But what if, with holy abandon, I sowed freely?
What if I took this limitless supply of Grace Seeds and cast them out into all places, unlikely places, sowing wide these Seeds of Life?
What would it really cost me?
What would it cost if I continued to hold back?
Oh God, forgive me for being so tight-fisted with Your gift of Grace. Forgive me for living under fear of how people might react. Jesus, thank You for your bold and lavish gift to me. Holy Spirit, help me to sow wide and sow freely that Gift which was so extravagantly given to me.
Even now I am moved by this beautiful conviction as I count the other six hopefuls near our hope-blossom. In my rigid and controlled efforts there was nothing. But in an act of extravagant sowing, there are seven. Seven! The children and I can hardly contain our excitement. Even Nathan cannot resist a smile as our contagious joy over a single flower touches him.
I am humbled as I look upon these seven promises, the second blossom slowly unfolding her tangerine petals for us. I did nothing to make her, to make any of them grow. I was simply willing to be lavish with the gift with which I was entrusted.
God brought forth the growth.
It is always He who brings forth growth.
So long as those with the Seeds are willing planters.
And so I will keep on sowing.
Generously.
