Seeds—Past, Present and Future
Amidst a sea of brown, my eye caught sight the other day of a pulsating yellow just barely beginning to emerge from a plush, green cocoon. The first of this year’s daffodils. It transported me back to my first spring here. I had discovered when pulling into my driveway one afternoon, to my delight, an unforeseen gift from the Creator. Having moved into my house the previous fall, I had no idea what had been buried in the earth, waiting to rise. I realized not long afterwards that an area on the south side of my garage, which I had already mowed over, also held a few stunning treasures. Not having much of a green thumb, I knew the best course of action would be to glean the vast wisdom of experienced gardeners. Two so happened to be members of Trinity.
As time went on, I learned from a neighbor that one of the previous owners, in addition to tending to the cluster of trees, had seeded the blooming bounty. And now, over these past 2 ½ years, because of what’s been planted, literally and figuratively, in and by others, I get to joyfully witness the Great Artist’s annual exhibit.
As I am giving thanks to God for these gifts again, Christ has unearthed a question in my mind: what am
I
sowing, that will impact the lives of my neighbors—human and other-than human alike—now and in the future?
This year pinecones and pollen are not the only thing that’s spreading. As the virus makes its way across the globe, the seeds of fear,
understandably
, is also taking root in our hearts and minds. As is grief. Acknowledging these realities, to ourselves and to and with others, is not cowardly, but healthy and wise.
One of the things I’m learning, or perhaps
re
-learning, these past couple of months is that, though natural, seeds of fear, if not tempered, can choke out the hope planted in the earthen cross and tomb. I’ve also recently been observing that there are other seeds—both of the harmful and helpful variety—being disseminated in our world. Misinformation. Compassion. Cynicism. Generosity.
Other repeat lessons I’m currently harvesting from what others have planted, is that there is strength in weakness. Focus a little less of my energy on planning in advance, and take things one day at time to lessen the feeling of being overwhelmed. And, laughter truly is good medicine.
For our Spiritual Care course in seminary one year, a session focused on Laugh Therapy. No, seriously, it’s a real thing. And yes, it is effective. To demonstrate her point, the therapist who was our guest speaker had us practice fake laughing. It felt awkward, and yes, admittedly absurd, at first. It wasn’t long, however, when one of my classmates, who is a habitual laugher, started her giggling. As her snicker seeds started to spread, one by one, we each found our fake laughs turning into real ones. Soon, the room burst into a colorful chorus of chuckles.
As I watch sitcoms, read funny FB posts, and am entertained by the antics of my pet companions, I am reminded that, like many things—good and bad—the gift of laughter is also contagious. And even better, it feeds my soul, body and mind.
As the fruits of the earth begin to rise amidst even this panic-inducing pandemic, may we, as individuals and as the body of Christ—claimed, empowered, and sent forth by the Spirit—ask ourselves in these times, what
are
we gleaning? And, what are
we
sowing?
