Planting Seeds

I planted a flat of basil this morning. The seeds were pelleted, so I decided two seeds per section would be adequate. Why two? Why not six or seventeen?

I have confidence that these are good quality seeds and they will sprout and grow. I don’t need to hedge my bet; I have faith in the seed company that provided them.

But my faith in the company isn’t enough to give me delicious basil. I need to plant the seeds correctly and keep them moist and warm, and transplant them when they reach the right size. I’m confident they will grow, but the value of this basil does not lie in having confidence that the seeds will sprout. I plant so I can savor the harvest. My mouth waters thinking about this delicious herb, ready to transform my food in a few short months. Yum.

So my job, once the seeds are planted, isn’t done. Constant care is needed, even at the end of a long day, or when life gets extra busy. As they reach a certain size, I must harden them off—get them used to direct sun and wind by slowly exposing them to outdoor conditions—two hours the first day, then four the next, and so on.

Then out to the greenhouse where they will begin growing their savory leaves. This is a project, well-worth the effort. I’ve planted and harvested before, sometimes with more success than others. My experiences guide me to actions that will hopefully lead to deliciousness. And, though I have no experience with these particular seeds, or even this particular kind of basil, I’m not blindly, blithely, carelessly handling these seeds. I could. But I’m pretty confident that the $5.95 I spent on them (plus shipping) will be wasted if I do. There has been some monetary cost, some time investment, and hopefully, a tasty pizza at the end.

I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this. We make our choices according to our beliefs, trust or faith. Careless gardening give careless results: if I water my plants occasionally, they may occasionally grow. Or not. Having confidence that watering will affect the harvest doesn’t produce results unless I actually pour water on my plants (gently, please!). We may feel nudges in our lives—twinges of good things to do—but the peace and joy that may come from following those impressions lie dormant until we actually do the good. Seeds unplanted will not sprout.

Our farming family’s favorite hymn is “We are Sowing,” which begins: “We are sowing, daily sowing, countless seeds of good and ill.” And we are. Another favorite line is, “In our words and thoughts and actions lie the seeds of death and life.”

Every day, as I tend my plants, if all is going well, they are changing,

towards death or life. I may not see it day to day, but I can certainly see change in a week. I wonder, can my family discern growth in me every week or month or year?

Are my shrill tones softening? My responses calmer, my demeanor kinder? While I’m tending to my basil project, am I remembering my Kristin project? Which one will have a more lasting benefit?

Simply knowing that becoming more like the Savior will bless me and others is not enough. I have to consciously choose to be less judgmental, and nurture that desire.

Read about it, talk about it, practice, practice, practice. Fail, try again. I have to want it enough to care for this seedling even when I am tired or cranky. It may not come easily—my soils may be poor. But prayer is a great nourisher, and the scriptures are living water for my dry and brittle heart.

And sometimes the Sower perceives that I need to develop more strengths, and I am given the heat of stress, or the winds of adversity. Sometimes I may feel battered and worn. But this is the chance for my roots of faith to deepen, my patience to flower, and my compassion to branch out. He supports me through my trials, and blesses the resulting growth.

The Lord of the Harvest is so gracious: I can’t enjoy basil until the plant is fully grown, but I can experience joy in my life from the first day I begin to align my life with His.

No doubt I will experience challenges, no matter what soil I plant myself in—that’s life—but under the hand of the Master Gardener, the difficulties become stressors that strengthen, not destroy. Growth brings blessings at every stage.

Emerson sums it up beautifully: “Sow a thought and you reap an action; sow an act and you reap a habit; sow a habit and you reap a character; sow a character and you reap a destiny.”

May our planting bring us forth fruit, thirty, sixty, even an hundredfold (See Matt 13:3-9). See you in the garden!

Kristin Fry is an amateur gardener, beekeeper and musician. She loves the song of returning birds, and the greening of the season.