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Like a gum wrapper or a pop can
tossed out of the window,
so some children are broadcast like
unwanted seeds along the roadside.
They take root where ever they
can burrow in to be counted among
the unnoticed weeds.
They find ways to push toward
the light to receive wandering drops of love.
They crowd and pull and reach
to prove they are the fittest.
To them hope is undefined and
longing an unreachable ray…
Until they hear…”Stop the car!
look at those flowers!”
They look around and feel
like just another weed.
Unaware of the pedals of worth
and stems which had risen above
the gravel in which they were broken,
they breeze bend toward the voices.
I imagine many of us have been there
in one form or another.
We took it a little too seriously when
someone would tell us we were growing
like weeds or some other
definition of inattention.
We would unconsciously
self talk into doing more,
loving more, and dispense colorful
persona’s to bring a portion
of attention.
Maybe then someone will notice us
among the unknown weeds.
Each seed, smooth and firm,
is broken within God’s mystery.
Where ever the breaking open occurs
it is always within sight of the
Master Gardener.
The light which might scorch
brings baking temps.
The water which might drown
brings moisture to earthly potential.
We, apprentices all,
learn to tend the soil.
We aerate, till, and water.
We pluck, trim, and prune.
Then, sometimes, we transplant
from a roadside to our garden.
We hold on to their unfurled
pedal of hope
until the soil that came with
them is no more.
We long for them when, to them,
longing only brings a withering
pain of despair.
Hope and longing are
fertilizing the soil
while love pours over them.
This was written a while ago for some friends on the day they adopted Malachi and Mercedes and submitted to RAP in the High Callings Blog Network
Gerald the Writer 