Day by day, growth is seldom noticed.
Growth is gradual. Silent and slow. Invisible as it inches upward.
There’s not much to measure…until there is.
Fields of wheat offer a fisted bouquet of metaphors.
So much symbolism set forth among seeds.
Preparation and planting, toil and soil, waiting and hoping, gathering and reaping.
And somewhere in the process, the procession of days, as we set seed in soil, watch it die to bring forth life, practice patience and perseverance, grasp hard to hope, growth begins to climb from a warm seedbed, begins to spiral toward the light.
A farmer will dig into the furrow a few days after the seed has been buried, lain silent and still, invisible in its burrowed bed.Β
Down, down into dirt he digs with weathered fingers.Β
The earth moves and lifts, disturbed by the probing. It is vigilance and expectancy which sifts away the coverlet looking for a sign.
The good farmer locates the seed, finds what he’s searching for.
He sees a splitting, a beginning, a sign of growth.
The seed coat gives way to the first hint of germination. A tiny sprout waves the tiniest glimpse of life, of newness, of growth.
Through days and months that follow, seasons and cycles, sunshine and rain, growth continues in silent, steady steps.
A hidden work. A work unto a harvest.
Day by day, deeds aren’t that extraordinary.
Details of life demand attention, the mundane mundanes on, the sun rises and sets and rises again.
There’s not much to measureβ¦until there is.
In quiet spaces, in everyday places, our souls stir and stretch and reach toward the light.
As we grow and become, sit with and process, reach toward and become some more, we find richness cultivated in, and wisdom and discernment budding at the surface.
As introspection and insight pull aside the layers, we find healing, we securely pat the seedlings of gratitude, we string poles for the foliage of formation.
Through days and months that follow, goodness with grief, despair and delight, anticipation and anxiety, growth shapes our souls in whispered waking wonder.
A hidden work. An humble waiting. A work unto a harvest.
