It is winter now. I sit in front of the warm fireplace, cuddled up with my fuzzy blanket, sipping on a soothing hot cup of hot tea. The snow gently glides through the cold morning air, and I reminisce back over the past few months, pondering how seasons have come and gone.
As I contemplate, I drift back in time to relive that memorable moment:
It’s early spring, and I’m bursting with hope and excitement as I hold this teeny tiny white tomato seed in my hand. It’s so small I can barely see it sitting on my fingertip, yet it holds such a promising future.
As I look at the seed, I dream about its future. I get excited about the delicious fruit it’s going to produce. My mouth waters as I imagine crispy, juicy, fresh tomatoes in a delicious salsa. I can already savor those bursting flavors of the tomatoes in a fresh salad; and, I can taste the refreshing juice as I pick it straight off the vine and crunch into the ripe red fruit.
I’m not sure how long I stare at this tiny seed imagining the abundance it will create some day. I think about the next year, and years to come. I envision how this seed will exponentially multiply and bring delicious food and nurishment to so many.
That’s what it is. Just a little tomato seed with a big future. [hmm… kinda like God sees me…]
This seed has a purpose. Yes, there is a plan for this tiny thing. It will accomplish a great mission that I envision for it. [I wonder if God has a mission in mind for me. How does He see me…]
Then I pause. My eyes drift from the seed to the dirt. I shudder as I look at the dirt. That dark, cold soil is where my tiny seed is going to go. My treasured seed is going to get buried, maybe even forgotten. It will be there covered in darkness. No one else will even know it’s there. It will be rained on, snowed on, and will be at the mercy of others to get the care it needs. [That’s how I’m feeling about myself these days…]
As I tenderly plant the seed, I remember that unless a seed falls to ground and dies, it abides alone. But, if it dies, it brings forth fruit abundantly. It is not alone, but surrounded with abundance. And so it is that the sacrifice of one seed enables life for so many. [I ask myself… what am I willing to sacrifice so others can have life? That’s what Jesus did for me. What am I willing to do for him, for others?]
I put the seed in the dirt. It’s in the dirt! I cover it with dirt. It stays in the dirt. Soon a storm blows through, and I take shelter.
But there is hope.
I take another sip of tea and think about the expectation, the waiting, the watering. I go back to the seed, and remember.
It’s a miracle of life. Somehow, in that dark forgotten dirt, the very thing that seemed to be the threat to the seed was what actually nurtured and transformed the seed. I remember my excitement the moment I see a tiny leaf emerge. But, I still have to wait. [Ugh..not easy. Waiting…. that’s what I’m doing now. Waiting. Waiting on God.]
Over time, the seed forms into leaves, then a vibrant plant. It blossoms, and then produces fruit. There are tomatoes in abundance. I harvest the fruit. I give bags of tomatoes to friends, neighbors, and hungry strangers.
And so it is that seasons melt from spring planting to autumn’s final harvest. Life has been abundant and will continue for generations to come because of that one little seed.
I stare out at the floating, swirling snowflakes as they dance to the rhythm of the wind. I know this winter will soon be over, and I’ll be planting more teeny, tiny tomato seeds. Yes, the offspring from that one little seed I planted last spring.
My thoughts move from the seed’s sacrifices and success to my own journey through life. My soul searches inside. What seeds am I planting? What value do I bring? What do others see in me?
[God, I feel like a tiny useless, forgotten seed. But, may the fruits of your Spirit be abundant in me. May you use my life to produce for you today and for years to come…]
The last few sips of tea are now cool, and I glance up. Through the frosty clouds, I look for hope, and a voice cries out inside of me, reminding me that I am created in the image of God, by God. A whisper in my heart gently reminds me that anyone can see greatness in greatness, but only God can see greatness in nothingness, weakness, and failure. He does not see a tiny helpless despised seed. He sees a great future. God is with me, and He’s making something beautiful of my life, even if I’m still in the trials of the dirt. [Don’t be afraid of the dirt.]
Beautiful In Time 