I have just finished the book The Faithful Gardener by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, I highly recommend this read. The powerful way she weaves story and prose and life places you in her remembering moments, and you begin to look for that which will never die, in your own life.
I am caught by a phrase at the end of her book where she has told of Uncle burning the field, and waiting for the faithful seed to come by wind, and bird and bumbling creature, to build a forest again. They watch the field burn as they stand waiting for their war torn lives, to be built again:
What is this faithful process of spirit and seed that touches empty ground and makes it rich again? Its greater workings I cannot claim to understand. But I know this: Whatever we set our days to might be the least of what we do, if we do not also understand that something is waiting for us to make ground for it, something that lingers near us, something that loves, something that waits for the right ground to be made so it can make its full presence known.
I am feeling the wind of this phrase in the quiet moments of my days. Change is coming. I am not in control of the seeds dropped, I am only earth. I open and receive what the Ruach deposits. I open and receive the rain the Father sends, I can do nothing more, nothing less. I have allowed the Master Gardener to plow and burn the field of my heart, to make room for love to grow, now I wait and receive, that I might give to the seed he deposits.
Father, teach me to wait, that I might give.
Shared with Seedlings In Stone.