seeds

All winter long, my tall girl has been waiting, waiting, waiting to plant her seeds. We had carefully selected peas, carrots, pumpkins, watermelons, beans and sunflowers for the small plot of earth in our urban garden. And then waited. And waited.
As I've mentioned in my last blog, it has seemed like winter has dragged on here in Jordan. Perhaps we are used to Florida pseudo-winters, when a few days of frost give way to sunny days in the high 80s in the middle of February. Or perhaps we've had one too many days stuck inside, day after day of gray clouds. Soi when the first official day of spring came, we all got giddy.
"It's spring, Mom! March 21st!" my second child announced, pointing to the calendar and rubbing her hands together.
My three year old ran to the the window and flung the sheer drapes aside. "It's spring today. Really? Where is it?"
"Right here, sweetie." I held her up and pointed down at the peach and plum trees. The blossoms look even whiter and more radiant than before.
"It's spring, it's spring!" they chanted, running through the house. What is it that makes the change of seasons so exciting to us? Each season has it's merits, but by the end, we are so grateful for the newness of the next season. Then there is something to hope towards.
So on Saturday, we took the one tool that we bought here in Jordan- a hand trowel- our seeds and some peat moss and we got to work. First step was to mark out the perimeter of the garden: a three foot by three foot square. Then, to turn the soil. Still moist from the recent rains, the clay soil was surprisingly soft. We took turns using the hand trowel to turn up the dirt, break apart the crusty top layer and pull out weeds. As we worked, I thought about the parable of the sower in the Gospels and how hard it is to find naturally soft and workable land. We need to work the soil to prepare it for sowing- by breaking it apart, turning it over, then mixing it with a lighter substance to make it less dense. Because in several weeks, then land will crack with dryness, becoming exceedingly hard and unyielding.
Lord, give me a heart that is soft to your touch, able to be taught. Do whatever it takes to make me usable, even if it means breaking away at the hard layers. Grow your Word in me.
So we pushed the seeds into the newly broken up earth and tamped them down into the darkness. We water the earth, watching as rivulets snake from one side of the garden to the other. And we wait. Will we get something to grow in this harsh, Jordanian soil?
I hope so.
Lydie, having kicked off her flip flops early on in our work, danced barefoot in the cool soil. Littlest one found the trowel and plunked herself down in the middle of the garden and picked at the dirt with her fingers. Soon, she is covered with a light layer of peat moss. Even her short wisps of hair are flecked with dirt. It's okay--
It's spring.