Seeds and more seeds

 

Jesus began to teach them many things in parables, and in his teaching he said to them: ‘Listen! A sower went out to sow. (Mark 4:2-3)

God, the universe, the divine Spirit, life ... or whatever you choose to name the mysterious source of this world ... is an inveterate, indiscriminate, reckless, profligate and infinitely generous sower of seeds.

Seeds of insight and freedom, love and humanity are strewn across the paths of our lives. Most produce nothing. We take no notice of them even as we trod them underfoot, but then ... for reasons unknown ... one or two find a place to grow in our hearts producing fruits of compassion and joy.

Take yesterday. Walking through Ikea, a middle-age women stopped in front of me to examine a lamp. Wispy gray and dark hair sprouted in uneven patches across her scalp. Chemotherapy, I thought. I’ve seen it too many times before. But maybe not. How could I know?

I couldn’t, but something in her bearing and mottled scalp, unashamedly unveiled, suggested a determined struggle for life, which stirred instantaneous compassion in my heart. With no other way to express it, I prayed for her healing, for blessing and strength for her and the man beside her, a prayer that continued off and on for several hours.

Everyone is dealing with something they’d rather be rid of, but not everyone wears their struggle ... whatever it is or was ... as clearly as did she. Maybe if we were more honest, more transparent, less concerned with maintaining the illusion of control, maybe then we could see each other more clearly and plant seeds of compassion in other’s hearts.

Maybe our honesty, our vulnerability is the means through which the divine Spirit graces and humanizes the world. Perhaps our weaknesses are the source of the world’s healing. All I know is that I became slightly more alive and compassionate as I rounded a corner at Ikea, of all places.

There was another moment in another aisle, too. Three children, two little girls and a stocking-headed boy, not quite three, I suspect, trailed three women as they shopped. The group stepped around a corner, unnoticed and unseen by the boy who lingered, playing with knobs on a dresser drawer, oblivious that he’d been left behind.

When he finally turned I spoke and pointed toward his family, he mumbled a Spanish word or two and toddled away in his snowsuit, smiling and unperturbed, with not a worry in the world that they were out of sight.

You know when you’ve seen a loved child who is absolutely certain of the care of those blessed to hold him.

Watching him waddle back to his family was, perhaps, the happiest thing I saw all day, humanizing, too. It planted a seed of love and compassion, joy and gratitude in my heart, thankful for the Loving Mystery who sows seeds ... everywhere.

David L. Miller