I walk the path to the ‘fort’ every single morning, but
today for the first time I looked left just at the point where a honeysuckle
bush, lush and heavy with fragrant flowers, clings and climbs up a tall pine.
We’ve been admiring the one in our garden this year. It
seems to be flourishing despite the weather. A few years back, Don took
rootings and put one halfway down the drive, and along the road right by our
turn off, and both of them are also heavy with blossom and rich with scent.
He didn’t plant the one in the woods. Neither did I.
Probably a bird did it, or the wind.
It has just made me think about the seeds we sow. We work at
it with our children, planting seeds which we hope and pray will mature into
character traits we are trying to instil in them. We may sow seeds in other
children’s lives if we are teachers, or in other colleagues’ lives if we are
team leaders, or unknown persons’ lives if we are writers.
But some seed will be sown with no intent on anyone’s part.
Except God’s.
Good to know that when I fail to sow a seed where perhaps I
should, God has it covered.
His grace is astounding.
Like the smell of honeysuckle in the wild.
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