I have a new appreciation for seeds.
Three weeks ago Bill and I scanned racks of tiny, colorful packets looking for vegetables to grow in our newly constructed container garden. Our intent is to start the plants indoors and transfer the seedlings outside when weather permits. Seems simple enough.
Bill filled eight small containers with fresh dirt and carefully inserted the small beginnings of arugula, zucchini, peppers and green onions. He placed them on a tray which sits under a timed light on his shop bench and, apart from watering, we leave them alone.
I walk past these pots each time I go to the laundry room or freezer and feel a kinship with them given my season of life. I, too, am planting seeds - letting people know that I am well and able to work again. The website is up, emails have gone out, and my team is spreading the word.
But nothing happens right away in the world of gardening. Day after day I’d pass the starter cups of life-giving potential and see only dirt. Day after day I would open my emails to find no work options. And my husband would say, “Shelaine, it’s only been one month”.
I knew he was right, and waiting is no stranger to me. The last four years have contained lessons from the Lord on the joy and value of surrendering to His timing and not forcing my agenda.
Yet insecurities creep in. Will there be work for me? Are my skills still relevant?
And, in the midst, God speaks.
I stood in front of the workbench one morning enjoying eighteen spindly green strands stretching ceiling-ward. The two pots of arugula had taken off when I was upstairs but the other six remained unchanged. Future salads gave hope. But the more enlightening thought came as a question. Why am I not throwing the other pots away?
A seed can sit dormant in a package for months and only when the environmental conditions are right does it begin to grow. Water triggers enzymes that prompt roots to seek underground moisture and, with time, a sprout heads toward the surface. Only when the tender shoot breaks the soil do I see evidence of what came before.
My journey is no different.
And now I am beginning to see the soil cracking and shoots of opportunity growing. With each inquiry, I receive not only the encouragement of possible work but another story of how God has gone before preparing the way for me and for those in need of something I offer. And I am reminded:
“I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow.” 1Cor. 3:6
With love and gratitude,
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In The Midst