A bit of earth I weeded and uprooted. Once full of flowers along with weeds and grasses that took over.
I pulled and dug and clawed up the ground.
It is so hard to pull out those plants that once were meant to be there.
I found them there; hidden under grass and weed and choked by roots that once were so small and easy to ignore . . . but now they've taken over.
There isn't much left of what once was.
And so it all has to go . . .
And the ground is bare and uncluttered.
But snugly held by surrounding rocks.
I sprinkle seeds- seeds so tiny I can't see where they land. There is no visible proof they are there.
Only the sound of them shaking free from their package.
And I push what I cannot see into the earth . . . patted it down.
Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
There is only a passing picture in my head of what it may look like someday.
But . . .
God knows every color to come.
The height, and placement of every stem, leaf and petal.
He knows when they will first poke up as little green specs. He knows which seeds will never live but continue in their dry death. He knows which will thrive in the sun and soil and become the show-stoppers that will identify this little spot.
And I know He is gardening in me.