Of seed-hope and harvest and what planting brings
Today, down on the plains of my hometown. In the wheat belt where combines roll, devouring golden stalks of grain. There, where ground lies cold, lies hard and fallow, they will bury their girl.
It was Saturday last that the phone rang. It was my father with the terrible news that she’d been killed, head-on, on her way to work.
Allyson, blonde and beautiful, gone. Firstborn in her family, first grandchild on her mother’s side, big sister to five siblings. A high-spirited girl, rather like her mama, she was one of a lively quartet. For four of us cousins had had babies together, and my own Kid Kaboom, he was one.
Four second cousins. Three girls, one boy. Tied by blood, bound by history, by love.
Being the only boy in a circle of girls could not phase (no surprise!) our Kid K. When playing Dutch Blitz, he’d cheat, big and broad, just to set off the screaming and yowling. Those girls, they could yip, and that made his day. He’d howl and then do it again.
And now, the quartet numbers three.
“The body that is sown is perishable; it is raised imperishable…”
All week long, thinking of her, of her mama, of the pain that must cut like a knife, I’ve been thinking of seeds. Thinking of kernels and how Jesus said this to His friends: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”
Seeds, all dying. A harvest, and fruit. A kernel of wheat that falls down.That is planted.
“…it is sown in weakness; it is raised in power…”
Today, they will plant their beloved; precious “seed.” But they plant in hope for they know this; they know Kingdom Truth, that life follows death, and the grave’s been swallowed in victory!
“…it is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body.”
One day, a trumpet. His trumpet shall sound, and we shall be gathered together. There’ll be no more tears. No more partings or goodbyes, for all shall be glory with Jesus.
So today, just for now, they will water with tears. And they will trust Him for their harvest. Between the ‘now,’ though, and on to the ‘then,’ they are waiting in faith for that day.
Amen.
FacebookTwitterGoogle+DiggPinterestBloggerWith fervent prayers, dear cousin, as you lay Precious Girl down to rest. Heaven awaits us up there, and we love you real hard right down here. XOXO, Rhonda