My Garden

I am afraid to plant this seed.

The sun is warm,

The earth is rich and ready,

But the days go by, And still no planting.

Why?

The springtime of my life is passing, too.

And five years' planting in a willing soil have borne no living fruit.

So many times I've waited, Hoped, Believed, That God and nature Would perform a miracle incredible but common.

Nothing grew. And often times I feel the mystery of life and growth is known to all but me, or that reality is not as it appears to be.

I have a choice:To put aside this seed, leaving the planting to the proven growers, pretending not to care for gardening, and knowing if I do not try I cannot fail.Or plant, And risk again the well known pain of watching for the first brave green and seeing only barren ground.He also spoke about a seed, the mustard's tiny grain, almost too small to see, But, oh - the possibilities!Those who doubt, who fear, are not inclined to cultivate it.But it was to them He spoke.And God remembered Sarah...Rachel...Hannah...Elizabeth...The seed is in my hand, The trowel in the other; I am going to the garden and the Gardener,

Once More.