The Seeds on my Stovetop

I keep staring at the seeds on my stovetop.

You may be confused to think that I am saying I have seeds on my stove. But, I do. They are sitting in a little dish, immersed in water. I bought morning glory vine seeds and for about a month now I have been planning to plant them along my fence line to have them grow up and create a wall of flowers. So two weeks ago I read the directions on the back of each packet:

"Soak seeds overnight in warm water before planting, whether indoors or out."

There are several little projects I have designed in my mind for what plants I want to grow, where, on our property. Most of my stuff is already growing around somewhere only in the "wrong" spot; I just have to transplant them. Some of my designs, when I follow through and transplant them, cause the bush to grow and make my area seem more attractive. Sometimes what I transplant doesn't work out logistically, and I have to move them somewhere else later. But there is one thing I dread more than anything else in my effort to transplant my items: killing them.

Since last summer I have been soaking lilac tree starts. I've been watching the lifeless sticks sitting in a bucket of water all winter. They are precious to me because I often see a mature tree, and I get so excited. Now they have green buds on them, and I planted them in the ground. But since their roots aren't developed, I am thinking they are not going to live. I feel like a fool. So much waiting and hoping, for nothing.

You may have guessed that these small stories I am sharing with you are like parables for the plans I make to do good things as a child of God.

Being so affected as I have been about the experiences of Joseph, I have just been lately agreeing with God that he would let my efforts in my literal garden to be a spiritual reflection about my true state in representing Him. To think therefore, that my desire for His bloom is being killed at my own hand, has created trepidation in me, to keep trying.

And that is why those seeds are still soaking, two weeks after the recommended "overnight."

I'm scared of what I'll do to them.

Why, you might ask, are they on the top of my stove of all places? Because that is the one place I know I can't push them aside and forget about them: it is the center of where I hover so that I will not neglect them through busyness but will be constantly reminded to follow through with the rest of the directions and not waste them.

God's Word, too, was meant to be given room to grow, not neglected and kept on the shelf.

How can my godliness ever grow if I don't plant the seed of His Word in faith??

My faith has to be bigger than my fear. Somehow I have to hope that God can cause to flourish that which I would kill without Him. I want Him to override my mishandling and inappropriation.

Believing for the wall of "glories."