"We are sowing, daily sowing
Countless seeds of good and ill,
Scattered on the level lowland
Cast upon the windy hill;
Seeds that sink in rich brown furrows,
Soft with heaven's gracious rain,
Seeds that rest upon the surface
Of the dry, unyielding plain."--Anonymous
This hymn never fails to elicit a response in me. The idea that we are always sowing some kind of seed is both humbling and terrifying. What kind of seeds am I sowing?
I discovered the other day that I was sowing seeds of gossip. These are destructive seeds, serving no purpose except, perhaps, that of helping me feel better about myself as I put someone else down.
Any time I compare my home, my talents, my family, or anything to that of someone else, I am sowing seeds of discontent within myself. What a tragic waste of time.
"Thou who knowest all our weakness,
Leave us not to sow alone!
Bid thine angels guard the furrows
Where the precious grain is sown,
Till the fields are crowned with glory,
Filled with mellow, ripened ears,
Filled with fruit of life eternal
From the seed we sowed in tears."
This I know for sure: the seeds I sow today will come back to reward ... or to chastize ... me tomorrow.
Some seeds are just like dandelions to me. It seems to take no effort at all for them to spread. That's the key for me, though. When I put forward no effort, weeds are bound to spread. (That, and my hips, but that's another topic.)
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