From the start of the job application process I think I’ve done a pretty good job of sitting back and letting things unfold. Until tonight. I hit the wall.
I’ve understood that we can only do our best to plant the seeds but ultimately it will be God that brings the opportunity to fruition. Husband has done a spectacular job of seeking out the most fertile soil – not just scattering seed willy nilly – while also fertilizing at the prime hour, nurturing with water, and then we’ve sat back to see what will spring forth.
So far, we’ve sprouted a dandelion.
Now, we’ve seen the starts of several others, but nothing really bloomed. So we don’t even know what those plants were. But this one is bright yellow and sticky in your hands.
Now we’re faced with a challenge: what to do with it. Yank it out so that it makes room for the “real” plants? Is it just sucking the nutrients from what is yet to bloom? Do we put stock in the fact that there was much more seed, so surely there will be a harvest?
Or do we celebrate it as the beautiful opportunity in our bare field? It was, after all, created by God, and I’m sure he thinks it gorgeous.
As the daughter of a farmer, my father gaffed each time I expressed desire for sunflowers to make a home in our fields – they were so pretty, after all. He informed me that they were actually weeds and that once you get one, you can’t get rid of them. To a farmer, it was a pesky weed. But who doesn’t remember the early ’90s when sunflowers made their home in Country Living magazine as a decorating must-have? Nary a mother who didn’t have one appliqued on a sweatshirt. The sunflower wasn’t a weed; it was a symbol of bold beauty.
From a farmer’s perspective, it wasn’t food; that’s what made it a weed. If you’re trying to grow corn or beans, that wasn’t it. But actually, it is food. I’ve never been to a baseball game without sunflower seeds. It’s just not what the farmer intended.
So the question for us this evening is: is our dandelion food? Can it provide? Will it sustain the soul?