The Seed

Sunlight.

It glistened playfully over the ripples, like so many dancers swaying along the movements of a gentle melody.  The light glimmered over the dew-laden bristles of a nearby thorn bush.  Just to the right of the prickly foliage, a spring bubbled out from the green earth, spilling into a little pool and winding brook that traveled deeper into the forest.  There at the pool, however, the trees left an almost circular glade, occupied solely by the rippling pool.  A pile of red sandstone at the mouth of the spring tinted the water slightly crimson where it came out of the earth.  Over the pool, the trees’ branches stretched and met in a sort of emerald, blossoming canopy—full of spring’s promises for life and rebirth.  The sunlight slipped through this dome of nature’s cathedral and lit up the glade in a heavenly glow that danced over grass, flowers, and water.  No sound breached that beauty past a tender, whispering breeze, until a sudden panting interrupted the quiet.

The disturbance originated from a form sitting on the bank of the pool.  It was a young woman, at an age nearing the threshold of adulthood.  She sat stooped forward, with her feet dangling limply in the water and her trembling hands rested firmly on either side of her as if to prevent her toppling headfirst into the pool.  In fact, the drenched state of her pale golden hair and simple dress suggested she had already.  Given the weight of her panting, she had nearly drowned. 

In fact, Lily had drowned.  Hadn’t she?

She blinked.  Her wide eyes stared into the rippling water with confusion.  The light’s brilliance on the waters shrunk her pupils considerably, making the emerald rim of her irises bold and vivid.    A slight wrinkle formed between her eyebrows as she stared into the water, puzzling.  Something of great significance had occurred in the moments before, when  all the beauty and ferocity of the pool closed in and consumed her.  Looking back on it, Lily could not quite tell whether it had been a death or a birth—an end or a beginning.  Both, perhaps?  Either way, she felt certain she must never forget it.  Lily stared at her quivering hands.  With some effort, she straightened and turned her right palm upward.  Just as she thought, something had changed.  She felt altered all over, with her skin stinging as if rubbed raw.  The sensation encircled and revolved around her right hand, however, and she felt certain the most crucial change had occurred there.  A glance confirmed her suspicion.

There, in the flesh of her right palm, rested a small, fragile seed.

Lily could not tell if she held it or if it were part of her.  It seemed embedded, somehow, and when she tipped her hand over the kernel would not fall.  She blinked, studied it a little more, and resolved the change was permanent.  Not that she minded.  Lily felt quite certain she had been altered for the better.  She smiled, gathered her strength, and rose to her feet.  The pale green dress that hung to her knees remained plastered to her skin with water.  No matter.  She best get on her way.

Without another thought beyond a gentle, thrumming warmth in her chest, Lily started to follow the winding stream into the forest.  She hardly knew where she went or why, but the little Voice inside assured her that it was the path worth taking.  Swinging her hands at her sides carelessly, she trotted out of the glade and down her curious road.

Thunder.

It gave a great clap above her, and on its cue the heavens released a downpour.  The rain came so suddenly and without warning that Lily gave a startled cry and hesitated.  She would never get dry at this rate.  The trees parted enough along the brook to ensure a continuous drenching.  Perhaps following it was not for the best.  Trekking under the shadow and shelter of the trees to the left or right would certainly prove easier.  Lily sighed, looked at her options, and continued down her chosen route, intending to trust the Voice completely.  Still, the creek bank grew muddy, and the filth splatted across her bare feet and ankles.  Lily tried to ignore it, certain she had chosen right.

“Better find a more civilized road, dear.”

Lily stopped, startled, and looked up.  A woman stood across the stream to her right, kept safely dry under the trees and her own lacy umbrella.  She was no doubt kept warm from the chill, stormy air by all the refinement of the ladylike dress that covered her from neck to toe.  Lily found herself somewhat in awe by the sight, able only to stare dumbly at the woman’s neat, dark hair and fine appearance.  The woman’s violet eyes narrowed disapprovingly, taking in Lily’s dress and appearance, which seemed suddenly shabby in comparison to her luxurious apparel. 

“A new seed, by the looks of it,” the woman gave a distasteful sniff while taking a little glass perfume bottle from a delicate pouch at her wrist, “Take my advice and give up now.  The seed life will lead you to the most dirty and unpleasant places.  Stay clean and safe.  That’s the way to really live.”

Lily frowned, puzzled.  Her eyes wandered over the woman, trying to determine her trustworthiness.  She had assumed there were others like her—with seeds.  Following the Voice and taking care of her seed were instincts since her rebirth that she accepted, without considering other options.  The woman’s fine dress and obviously clean hands certainly looked more appealing than the rain and mud she embraced at present.  Lily observed as the woman sprayed the perfume on her throat and wrists delicately, then rubbed in the fragrance subtly.  While the scent struck Lily as something appealing, the motion drew her attention to something that stirred the her very core with revulsion.  When the woman rubbed her wrists together, Lily spotted a blackened, withered flower on her right palm, suffocated by the woman’s perfume.  Lily only saw it for a moment, but it was more than enough for her to clasp her own right palm protectively and continue down the bank.  The woman called after her with word about fine living, but they had lacked all their previous charm.  Anything that could ravage a budding seed was something Lily wanted no part in.  Another moment and the woman’s scent and words had faded into the rain forever, beyond enticement.

Lightning flashed.

She jumped, looked up at the clouded sky, but kept on her way.  Thunder, rain, or lightning, Lily entertained no intention of stopping.  The fine woman had assured her that taking shelter in the trees was not the path meant for her.  There was a reason the Voice urged her toward the brook, and she must give heed to that.  No sooner had Lily thus resolved, however, than the rain poured harder, the mud grew deeper, and a frigid gust of air beat at her.  Within a matter of minutes she began sinking up to her calves in the muck.  The stretch of drier ground just under the trees began to look more and more appealing.  She could walk there and still keep eyes on the water, surely.  Lily mused until her left foot slipped in the mud and she fell to one knee, dirtying her hands and the hem of her dress.  She shook her head distastefully as she rose. A fresh burst of wind settled her doubts instantly, and she stepped under the trees, careful to keep her eyes on the brook.  She could manage well enough that way.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all muddy?”

Lily jumped slightly, glancing toward the voice.  Deeper in the trees, a tall man stood smiling at her.  He seemed to have dark skin, which shimmered slightly when the light caught it.  The trees’ shadows kept her from making him out clearly, but his voice held a soft, comforting tone.

“Come further in, silly.  It’s drier back here.  I’ll walk with you for a while, if we’re heading in the same direction.”

His voice held such an enchanting sound that Lily found herself stepping closer to him without thinking.  He seemed to be walking the same direction, generally, so she met his stride with only a glance toward the brook.  They shared their names and fell quickly into a comfortable conversation.  His name was Nutsedge, and he was a wandering sort of fellow.  Lily hardly noticed it, but his merry conversation brought her ever closer to him and farther from the brook.  By the time she thought to look, she could no longer spot the creek at all.  Her breath caught in her throat frightfully.

“I say, Nutsedge, I can’t see the water at all!  Are you sure we’re headed in the same direction?”

“To be sure,” he laughed, putting an arm about her shoulders reassuringly, “there’s a little stretch where the brook gets too small to see, but we’ll be past that presently.”

His arm felt warm, safe.  For a moment she believed him.  Then a rare glimmer of sunlight lit the place where they stood.  Nutsedge released her and drew back sharply, but Lily had already seen him.  The light revealed the source of his warm, shimmering skin.  Warm, dark mud caked Nutsedge from head to toe—too much filth to ever allow a seed to grow.  She cried out sharply, disgusted.  Upon realizing she had spotted him, his comforting smile and tone vanished completely.  He stepped forward, with hands outstretched and a dangerous glint in his eyes. 

Lily screamed and fled.

For a moment she thought she might not escape fast enough or ever find the river.  Just as soon as she recognized such fear, however, the brook seemed to find her.  Nutsedge cried out with disappointment and was lost in the rain that soaked her once more.  Now, however, she had the revolting feel and stench his dark mud across her back and shoulders, and the rain did not seem able to wash it away, despite its definite increase.  Lily found herself trekking through the muck again, more miserable than ever.  Again and again she slipped in the mud, streaking her hands and arms with the stuff in her attempts to catch herself. 

Finally, she fell and ceased her attempts to stand.

For a long while she sat there and looked down at her own soiled self.  The fine woman’s talk of cleanliness started to feel more appealing, when confronted with such filth.  Lily sighed, studying her muddy hands.  She could not even see the seed anymore, beneath the muck.  Her throat tightened, and her eyes grew hot.  Lily took in a deep breath, trying to hold it in.  No good.  Tears and sobs escaped her without her permission.  Soon she wept shamelessly, crying aloud all her frustration at the seed that had offered nothing but trial and suffering.

“Well, that’s the best kind, isn’t it?”

Lily’s head snapped up, startled.  A small, wiry woman stood in the creek to her right, smiling down on her.  First Lily noted her pale green dress, and then the brilliant emerald eyes that watched her.  She also noticed a bit of mud splotching the woman’s hands and arms.  However, the oddity Lily spotted afterward removed every previous impression.  Vines.  They wound up the woman’s right arm, over her throat, and wove themselves through the crimson curls that tumbled down her back.  The foliage seemed part of her, branching out here and there with delicate, purple flowers.  Lily found she could only stare at the beauty, awed.

“What?”

The woman smiled sweetly.  “Seeds that lead you to hard places are the best, I said. Then you get wet and dirty, just as you ought.”

Lily struggled to hide her growing confusion, and the woman obviously recognized it.  She laughed brightly, stooping down to put her dirty hands in the rippling waters.  “Dirt and water nurture the seed, and when you refresh yourself in the river… everything becomes clear.”

With the last words, the woman straightened, letting Lily look at her hands once more.  There, where the dirt had streaked her arms, were fresh sprouts of vines.  The woman then took a step closer and offered her right hand to help Lily back to her feet.  At that moment, Lily realized that the woman’s vines all sprouted from a seed in her right palm.

“Now come on,” the woman crooned, “let the water restore you.”

Gently, the woman led her into the water, where they both scrubbed the filth from her.  Some of it was so caked and hardened she rubbed her skin raw removing it.  It hurt a little, much like the cracking of a seed’s outer shell to allow growth.  And beneath her filth lay growth indeed.  The rain ceased in that moment, allowing a glimmer to slip through the clouds and illuminate the miracle before her.  Fed by the soil of her struggle and protected by the purity of her efforts, a little green plant began to wind itself around her wrist, where one branch opened up into a little, white flower.

“Water Lily,” the woman laughed, “that’s your full name.  Mine’s Morning Glory.  Happy to struggle alongside you, Lily… nothing else is more worth it, in the end.” 

Lily might have doubted such a statement before, but she fully believed it when she gazed down at the little blossom on her wrist.  A little grain of reassurance sowed itself in her, sprouting a warmth in her chest.  In the end, she had chosen right.  The path was hard, surely, but that made it worth it.  After all, seeds could not grow without a little dirt, rain, and effort.

Finding Hope

     The breeze stopped. Songs of birds, that had been, ceased. For a moment nature herself seemed to hold her breath. He looked at the hand reaching down to him, holding out a piece of rolled up parchment. The hand was rough and hard worked, and the man it belonged to was the same. At first glance he would have been thought an ordinary man, with his plain tunic and a sack resting over his shoulder. The smile twisting his mouth and the scroll in his hand could be seen at closer observation though, and made him very different.
     “Are you ready, David?”
David looked at the scroll. Inside his soul he felt the same joy that characterized the man before him: the joy of the good news that had been offered to him through this very man. However, a seed of doubt remained buried in his heart.
     “How can I teach what I’ve only just learned myself?” he asked hesitantly.
     “Age and experience are nothing. If you want to do this, then you are ready.”
     He wanted to so much that it hurt. How could he not want to share such joy? He had only wanted a little reassurance. Now he had that.
     “I’m ready.” He grasped the scroll, but the man did not let it go.
     “It will be hard, David, but follow orders and don’t ask why.”
     “What orders?” David frowned. He had received no orders.
     “Hope will guide your steps.”
     The man spoke in riddles that made no sense, but he was not to question. He had one more thing he wanted to know.
     “Who do I give it to?”
     “When the time comes, you will know.”
     The man released the scroll to him. David held it close, fingering the red cord that tied it shut. It was so small, yet such a precious thing. He would guard it with his life. He wore a bag over his shoulder that held his map and other things. He had a sword at his belt and a shield over his back. They were tools he had used often in his old life of wandering. Now they had a purpose, as he did. David stood stall, readjusted the cloak on his shoulders, and turned to go.
     He stopped for a moment. With a smile he looked over his shoulder to think the man, but he was already disappearing over the crest of a hill. Then again, no expression of gratitude would do. Sometimes silence could be the best option. David started on his way again, promising to never forget what had happened to him moments before. His feet thudded on the path in a steady rhythm. For a moment he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds around him making a great harmony that soothed his soul.
     Turn right
     David stopped dead in his tracks. The voice had come suddenly, quietly, but crystal clear in his mind. He looked to his right, and saw a narrow path leading deeper into the forest. The small dirt rood looked anything but welcoming. He pulled the map out of his bag.
     Turn right
     “It’s not on the map.”
     Did I give you that map? It is nothing but a piece of paper.
     David opened his mouth to protest, but closed it. Doubt and confusion clouded his heart, but clear memory spoke to his soul. He must follow orders without question. The order was clear and obvious. Would he follow it? Hope will guide your steps. This was not what he had imagined. An unseen voice unnerved him. Quiet and gentle as it was, the fact that he could see no speaker chilled him to the bones.
     Turn right
     After another moments pause, he stepped onto the narrow path. The branches hung so low he had to stoop to avoid them. Cobwebs caught him as he trudged by and stuck, as if to stop him. He swatted at them irritably and walked on. The wind stirred and whispered in a haunting voice of doom. He had gone the wrong way already. He would never make it now. Fear tightened his throat, but he kept walking.
     “Dear God, save me!”
     David stiffened. The cry for help made his blood run cold. He heard no orders, but felt an urge he could not deny. He sprinted toward the sound without hesitation. No pleading soul should ever go denied. He had learned that much in his years as a man asking questions. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade. He burst through a wall of brush and into a glade, panting.
     Before him towered a large dragon, clutching a small bundle in its claws. The bundle squirmed, revealing little arms and legs. It had a head of golden curls that twinkled in the sunlight. David caught sight of two flashing blue eyes that were wide with fear. The child opened her mouth and screamed for help again. The dragon brought her close to its head and licked its bloody lips hungrily. David tore his blade from its scabbard and surged forward with a bellow. The beast looked at him as it he was a buzzing fly. It flicked its tail in his direction. David swung his sword into the scaly flesh. The dragon roared angrily and pulled its tail back, taking the weapon with it. David stared at his empty hands for a moment, dumfounded. One of its claws slammed into his side and knocked him off his feet. He rolled across the ground and came up on his knees. To his left he could see the child, which still struggled in the monster’s clutch. David snatched the shield from his back and threw it. It collided with the arm that held her, cutting a deep gash. David dove, barely managing to catch her before she hit the ground. Then he set her down gently.
     “Run!” he yelled. The child turned to obey without protest. David turned to see the tail come down on him. The impact shoved him facedown into the dirt. He tasted blood in his mouth. The tail held him down and kept him helpless as death’s breath grew hot on the back of his neck. This was it – his end.
     Tiny fingers pulled on his sleeve.
     “Get up!”
     He opened his eyes. The girl knelt by him, holding his sword out to him. When he simply stared she shoved it into his hand and stood. She put both hands on the tail holding him down and pushed with a groan. The dragon turned flashing eyes on her. The hold on David loosened. He clutched his sword and slipped out of his captor’s grasp. The he stood, slowly. The child ran to his side. David put a hand on her and pulled her close in a protective embrace. The dragon lunged at them, but David ducked beneath the
snapping jaws and drove his blade into the beast’s chest. It sunk in to the hilt. The monster raise it head with a final cry and fell.
     The child stared at the bloody corpse, trembling. David sheathed his sword, retrieved his shield, and looked at her. A small tear trickled down her dirty cheek. Her right arm was coated in blood. He knelt by her and put a hand over her eyes.
     “Don’t look at it,” he crooned softly. “It’s alright now.”
     She shook. More tears slipped out from under his hand. A whimper escaped her throat. Without warning she threw her arms around his neck and wept into his shoulder. He held her against him and stood. He carried her away from the tainted glade and onto the narrow path. Once they had gone a distance he found a small spring along the road. He knelt beside it and let her sit down. Using his sword, he cut a strip from his cloak. He soaked it in water and grabbed her right hand. She did not protest, but simply sat still and sniffled. David washed away the blood and found a sat of teeth marks in her upped arm. He rinsed the blood out of the cloth and used it to bind the wound.
     He looked into her piercing blue eyes, “What’s your name?”
     “Alyiah.”
     “Do you have any parents?”
     “I live with mommy in the forest,”
     He frowned, “Can you find you’re way home?”
     She nodded.
     Take her home
     David blinked. The come came again, quietly ordering. He frowned. The child could get home herself, certainly. He had a duty that did not include any obligations to her. However, his orders had been spoken.
     “I’ll make sure you get home safely.”
     She looked up at him as he stood. A smiled of gratitude twisted her lips ever so slightly. They turned and walked down the path hand in hand. Alyiah skipped along to keep up with his long stride. Her eyes fell on the scroll in his belt with a curious twinkle.
     “What’s that?”
     He followed her gaze and smiled, “Good news.”
     “For who?”
     “I’m not sure,” he shrugged.
     “Then how do you know where to go?”
     He thought for a moment, “A voice keeps speaking to me. Hope… I think.” He paused. “Do you believe in God, Alyiah?”
     She looked up with wide eyes, “God?”
     “You called for Him earlier.”
     Alyiah’s gaze turned to an expression of calm wonder. “Did I?” she asked in a manner that did not demand answer. They both fell silent after that; uncertain of what should be said. A cool breeze brought a shiver from them. David stopped very suddenly. Alyiah looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he spoke first.
     “Which way, Alyiah?”
     His face was little pale as he spoke. Alyiah turned and saw that the path before them branched off in two directions. Her heart fluttered in a moment of fear.
     “I…” she swallowed, “I’ve never seen this place before.” Somehow he knew she would say that. The air had an unnatural feel to it. He felt very certain this place had not been here before, and was no more than a creation of the whispering wind and cobwebs that ever tried to stop him along his path. Doubt hovered over him like a lingering shadow, but Alyiah turned to him with confidence.
     “What does Hope say?” she inquired.
     He hesitated, listening, “Left.”
     Without another word she started toward the left path, pulling him after her. David let himself be led for a few steps before stopping again. His eyes found something on the right path that caught his attention. A figure in white stood there, holding its arm out to him. Alyiah must have seen it too, for she let out a little gasp. The figure smiled welcomingly and beckoned.
     “Come this way.”
     David stared in confusion, “Who are you?”
     “Hope.” It seemed to shine as it spoke in a kind voice. A much quieter voice spoke to his soul.
     Go left, David.
     “Come this way,” the figure beckoned again. This was the Hope he had imagined: something he could see clearly. It made a great deal more sense than an unseen voice. It was easy to take in. He stepped toward it.
     Go left
     He pushed the voice aside and took another step.
     “Stop!” A child’s hand grabbed him by the sleeve and tugged. Alyiah implored him with blue eyes. “Hope said left, right?”
     “What if…” David spoke wistfully and tried to continue, but Alyiah held his arm tightly to stop him from getting closer to the figure.
     “Didn’t hope lead you the right way before?” Alyiah demanded.
     David looked down and took in her scowling face. It took time to realize what she had said. His head felt heavy, as if he were waking from a dream. Where had she gotten such faith? He nodded.
     “Then it will lead you the right way this time!” She pulled him towards the left path.
     “Come this way,” the white figure called.
     Left, David
     Yes. Why had he not seen before? The figure was just another whispering wind or cobweb pulling him away. Silently, he thanked God for Alyiah’s faith. The child let go of his hand and started to run.
     “Mother!”
     He looked up. Alyiah ran through a small gate and up the steps of a small house, where a woman waited with open arms. The sight of the two embracing made David’s heart stop, bringing a sort of pain to his chest. He heard the voice, very clear. This was it. He slipped through the gate and up the steps of the house.
     The woman looked up at him, “How can I thank you?”
     David smiled down at her. He extended his hand, which held the scroll he treasured so dearly. “Read this.”
     “What is it?”
     “Good news.”
     She opened it. Her eyes grew wide, taking in the beauty of its contents. Alyiah looked over her mother’s shoulders with curiosity. David watched as the woman began to cry quietly. The scene made him relive the moment he had read the parchment only hours before. Did she feel the same he had? Such joy could not be described with words. He put a hand on her shaking shoulders. Alyiah began to weep as well. They gave out long sobs of happiness while holding each other tightly. The woman looked up, wiping tears from her eyes.
     “Who else knows?” she asked quietly.
     “Many,” he smiled, “but not enough. We must all continue to tell them.” He bent down and picked up the parchment that had fallen to the ground. Rolling it up, he stood. David held it out to her, “Are you ready?”
     “But… I’ve only just learned.”
     Doubt–they all head it. It took the faith of a child to fight it. “Age and experience are nothing. If you want to do this, then you are ready.” It was a matter of trust, not work. It was not easy thing to be sure, but if one could lean on Hope then it would lead the way and make the burden lighter.
Alyiah grinned, “I’m ready!” Her mother nodded. They put their hands on the scroll, but David held on to it.
“It will be hard, Alyiah, but follow orders and do not ask why.” The child would tell many, no doubt. Her faith would shine like no other. He could hardly wait to tell others like her.
     “Orders?” Alyiah looked confused.
     “Hope will guide your steps.”
     Her mother looked up, “Who do we give it to?”
     David smiled, “When the time comes, you will know.”

“But hope that is seen is no hope at all.”

~Romans 8:24b (NIV)