Seedlings

“The cross is gone.”

“It’s there. Look closely.”

Chase squatted in front of our verdant Easter resurrection garden, his fingers searching and eyes expectant for nothing but flower. Our strong-willed younger son enjoys being right as much as he enjoys a tickling match with his brother and dad.

“Oh…yup, it’s there. Told you.”

“What!” I squawked like a parrot from its high perch, my face breaking into a grin matching his mischievous one. 

“It grew really fast.”

Had it? We created the pot-base garden the last week of March, nearly two months prior, planting seeds just below the surface of dark and moist dirt. Jesus’ tomb was a tiny flower-pot framed by a large rock on one side and laying atop a bed of pebbles, and the three crosses were sticks collected in our yard and glued together.

It wasn’t much to look at, but we began spotting minute dots of growth a couple of days later. Bright green spots of hope broke through the dirt womb, living seeds bursting with new life.

We headed inside, my mind on Chase’s Kindergarten graduation the next morning. Where had the past 9 months gone? The days had raced each other like Indy cars, speeding into weeks and months, and finally seasons with no red light in sight.

Seasons of laughter and joy and tears and frustration, life lessons that pain and pull and push us onto our knees before the One who set our lives into motion.  

To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck what is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

A time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

A time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to gain, and a time to lose;

A time to keep, and a time to throw away;

A time to tear, and a time to sew;

A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;

A time of war, and a time of peace. ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Parents warily watch the clock hands move, turning forward and pressing moment into memory. We dread today’s relentless passage into tomorrow. Chubby cheeks turn into maturing markers of emotion and mirrors of truth, and we notice small hands fill too well the gaps in our time-lined palms.

A few days later, Chase smooths out the waves of a frown across my forehead, his soft fingers brushing across my soul. We’re in a difficult season now, one testing and trying us as parents. Trevor and I often fall outside ourselves as we teach and explain and love and discipline these unique buds of life that are growing, bursting through our womb of determined protection.

But…always…God’s mercy is in the heavens, and His faithfulness reaches to the clouds. Today He lovingly reminded me that our seedlings aren’t meant to be hoarded under shaking, cupped hands, blocking their growth for safety’s sake. They’re His seedlings, prepared specifically to grow in His perfect timing  - up through His hands - even as they let go of mine.

Trust me. So I hand Him the watering can, yet again, stepping out of the sunlight’s sometimes scorching rays, squinting as the light hits its target – my seedlings. 

Two precious seedlings.

And He patiently points. Look. The cross. It’s there among the green seedlings, standing firm, unfailing. Jesus is the same today, tomorrow, and forever. A promise from God’s word, written across my heart from my own journey of seed to bloom. 

And I remember, we’re not doing this alone, this difficult and wonderful and painful process of raising up seedlings for His glory. Jesus belongs at the heart of our seedlings as they expand and reach and grow, as their Savior, Protector, Guide, Friend.. Jesus.

But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him, and His righteousness to children’s children. ~ Psalm 103:17

Tall, Taller, Tallest

Cole and Chase’s school was having a uniform sale one afternoon, and I lingered around the long table browsing shorts, pants, and shirts. It was a great opportunity to purchase uniforms for next year more cheaply while helping the Junior class raise money.

As I reached for a pen in my purse I noticed Cole and Chase circling a lanky high school student dribbling a basketball. A couple other kids joined them, turning the walkway in front of the gymnasium into a mini-basketball court. Their youthful faces were lit with the sunshine of basketball delight.

Not Cole. His face was intent and serious, beads of sweat forming and tracing down his cheeks as he focused on the teenager’s adept movements. I glanced at my younger son. Chase had an ear-to-ear grin and was bouncing about like an Easter bunny after downing a bag of Dove chocolates.

The young man dribbling in and through the happy hive of younger kids was having fun and playing nicely, so I knew it wasn’t a case of Cole being treated unkindly. After handing over my check, I called the boys over. The teenager glanced my way, said something to Cole, and patted his back.

“Good job. See you tomorrow, Cole.” I couldn’t help noticing that my tall older son looked noticeably shorter when standing next to Mr. Tall Teenager, who had probably waved goodbye to 6 foot last year and was all arms, legs and pancake hands.

Cole. At 7 1/2, he struggles with certain details in life – realizations that come easily to Chase, but elude him in his wobbly quest for perfection. I pray daily about how to parent both children, about how to teach and model for Cole that he won’t be the best at everything and there’s always someone better than him, but that God made him just the way he’s supposed to be and he has lots of strengths.

We pray that Cole will be confident in who God created him to be without the burden of envy weighing on his growing bones.

A sound heart is life to the body, but envy is rottenness to the bones. ~ Proverbs 14:30

As the boys walked over, the Holy Spirit tweaked my soul, reminding that what’s truth for my children is truth for me as well. Were my bones rotting under the damaging weight of envy?

That morning I’d prayed Psalm 139:23 & 24, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; Try me, and know my anxieties; And see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”  As a networked writer, I see other writers’ success splashed across Facebook and writing blogs daily, pictures of their books on shelves and breakdowns of book sales and ebook rankings, and I cheer for them and pray for their success.

But – I admit – there are moments when I scrunch my face in want, feeling the bone-heavy envy that God’s word warns explicitly against. God’s word is truly “living and powerful, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit…a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12), and I felt the Lord convicting me of the ugly, damaging sin of envy.

“For where envy and self-seeking exist, confusion and every evil thing are.” ~ James 3:16

As the boys trotted over and we loaded up, I read frustration and disappointment on Cole’s face. I handed them their water bottles, cranked up the air, and turned around in my seat to look at my red-faced son.

“Who would win if I raced against Michael Phelps in the pool?”

“Maybe you mommy.” I tried not to snort, tucking that away for a future blog post about faith.  

“Not happening, honey. He’s an Olympic athlete who’s trained for hours, days, weeks, months, years. He has much more experience and I’d be left in his wake. The teenager playing basketball is like that.”

“He’s taller than me!”

“Cole, he’s 10 years older than you! He’s supposed to be taller than you. In 10 years you might be that tall and the roles will be reversed. You’ll play keepaway with the younger kids. Right now just practice and have fun, honey. Don’t compare yourself to a 17 year old.”

 Later I felt the Lord tapping my heart, reminding me that it doesn’t matter who’s tall, taller, or tallest. We’re each purposed for God’s glory. I’ve been called to write for Him and that includes cheering on other writers and their successes and trusting Him in this awesome, life-long process of letting His Word direct my words.

Don’t compare yourself to others or allow envy into your bones. You’re fearfully and wonderfully made by Him and for Him, and that’s the long and short of it.