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A quote: “The fruits of your labors may be reaped two generations from now. Trust, even when you don’t see the results.” ~~ Henri Nouwen
I’ll start with a story …
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“You ok, Mom?”
Worry pulled at David’s mouth. I waved him back. “Yes, dear. Just saying goodbye to the place.” I patted my stomach, “And just a little morning sickness, too. Now go finish helping your Dad round up your siblings.”
He nodded to me and left. He had become a bit of a mother hen of late since I found out I was pregnant again. He took his eldest child position seriously, including protecting the little life growing inside of me.
Six years here. I will miss it.
Such is the life of Archivists. The locations of our communities are rarely disclosed, even to others within the confederation. But our mission is supported by all. Archivists appear at the end of the growing season, gathering some of the best of each crop. We then prepare, catalogue, and store the seeds. Before spring planting, we are back to distribute some of our storage. We are the emergency back up least City cowards ever repeat the Gray Raids of ’33.
This is our year to rotate out, to find a new place to dig our cellars and build our drying tables.
I smile. Seeds aren’t the only thing the confederation propagates.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license
GWB says: Grandpa always had hope. Not Pollyanna hope or just-sitting-around-moping hope. No, real hope, and a trust in the One. So, he had set aside these seeds eight decades ago, when the war started. He foresaw the Burning in which it would end and the desolation it would cause.
But, he knew his Scripture, and he knew the promises: God, Himself, would see them through and would bless them. But he also knew it would require His people to do some things, to be God’s instruments. So he stored away – carefully, securely – all kinds of seeds during the war. Fruit trees, grapevines, grasses, bushes, roses of Sharon, harvested by hand from heirloom species. He made sure they were viable. And he taught us the signs, so we would know the time was right, that God had prepared the ground once again for life.
Yesterday we saw the last sign for which we had been watching. Almost 80 years to the day from Grandpa putting away his first seeds. (Oh, yes, he carefully catalogued them.) Today we began opening the seed packets. Yes, it’s still winter, but some seeds need to be in the ground while it’s cold to come forth when spring arrives. So, we will dig today and bury them properly (Grandpa made sure there were instructions) and then we begin a new stage in our journey of hope. We place our hope in God into the ground to burst forth later with life.
It will be a wonder indeed to see this desert teeming with life. I might not see it, as it might not happen in my lifetime. But I’m teaching my children – the other place Grandpa taught us to put our hope – how to care for and nurture the life Grandpa prepared for. Our hands working the soil are God’s hands, returning our lives to the land He has given us. And the kids insisted on naming the first two trees we planted – Ariel and Kfir.
(Once again, well over 100. Sorry.)
Darleen Click says: I like! And no worries, GWB, I upped the count to 200 words. 🙂 A bit bigger yard to play in.
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