The Parable of the (Little Lady) Sower

Little Lady found a secret stash of garden seeds that my mom could not take with her when she passed. Old seeds. You know the kind – you bought them, expecting to plant a beautiful garden, but life happened and so they sat, unused, forgotten about, destitute, in some random corner of your home? Yeah. I spent several weeks trying to convince myself to throw them away.  But I didn’t. I couldn’t. And Little Lady found them.

For about a week, she grabbed one paper envelope at a time, came to me and asked, “Seeds? Oomah seeds?” Yes, I told her – Oomah seeds. I explained to Little Lady that when it gets a little bit warmer and the snow is gone, we can start planting seeds – but the seeds will need soil and water and light and warmth and room to grow. If she could wait until her birthday, I told her, we’d plant the seeds. Yet she brought them to me, wanting, wanting, wanting to open the packages and plant the seeds.

We talked about dill and ate pickles together. And we put the dill seeds back.

We talked about marigolds and pretended to smell them. And we put the marigold seeds back.

We talked about broccoli and how Little Lady Papa is a broccoli-growing-genius… and then we ate broccoli with homemade dip. And we put the broccoli seeds back.

We talked about rosemary and how we plant it around the perimeter of the broccoli to keep predators away… and then we use it to season our chicken. And we put the rosemary seeds back.

We talked about thyme and she bounced left to right to left to right, saying “tick tock, tick tock, tick tock” (not even joking – I have video proof that Little Lady is this funny). And we put the thyme seeds back.

Every. Single. Day.

Sometimes several times a day, because if you’ve ever spent any time with a toddler, you know that there’s sometimes a bit of fixation that happens when they’re interested in something.

So I tried to put the seeds “up,” but Little Lady rebelled and grew taller, certainly for no reason except to reach the seeds. Toddlers can do that, I suppose.

One afternoon, about a week and a half ago, Husband and I were sitting at the kitchen table, talking about some content for my email newsletter (if you’re not subscribed, there’s a form at the bottom of this post – I’d love to have you onboard). We have a small end table by our patio door that mom kept laden with plants that I’m now trying to keep alive. On the corner, sits a basket planter with some plant I received as a gift when my father passed away – the plant takes up less than half of the planter space. The rest is just soil. Not even nice and loamy and healthy-looking soil – just… soil.  

And as we talked, we half-listened as Little Lady brought us – one by one – little paper envelopes of seeds. I don’t know what Husband thought was happening, but I’m not to proud to say I assumed Little Lady was bringing the seeds to show us, and then putting them back where they belonged.

That, dear friends, was a ridiculous assumption, and the parent of a toddler should never make that mistake. For mistake it was. When Husband and I finished our chat and stood from the table, we found Little Lady standing by the plant table, hovered over the basket planter, torn paper envelopes around her feet, her fingers pressing seeds into the soil, and her singsong voice declaring all the great things for which they were destined. And I daresay, no gardener has believed it more than she did at that moment.

And we rejoiced.

What else could we do?

We rejoiced. We exclaimed what a wonderful job she did. We hugged her. We asked her about her seeds. We helped her water them with a small spray bottle. And we agreed with her in faith, cheering, “Grow, seeds! Grow!”

And then we cleaned up stray seeds and paper shreds and carried on with our day.  

A few times, we reminded Little Lady to water her garden, but I have to say – Husband and I were both surprised when we spotted a few small green shoots popping out of the basket planter soil.

And then a few more.

And then several.

And now… I’m tasked with figuring out the best way to preserve these much-crowded seedlings without threatening their beautiful, fragile-yet-resilient little lives.

Oh, to have the faith of my Little Lady, who sows only in joy and eager expectation! She didn’t know the seeds were old and might not germinate. She didn’t know the soil was dry. She didn’t know that each seed needs its own space to grow. She just delighted in planting each one.

As adults, too often we listen to the Parable of the Sower and think that Jesus is advising us to mind where we speak the Gospel: Be aware of the soil into which we plant seeds, etc. But I don’t think He is. I think Jesus was talking about our own hearts, and determining what kind of soil we will be. Will we receive His word upon our hearts? Will we allow life and circumstances to snatch it away? Will we allow the weeds to strangle it to death? Or will we allow Christ to cultivate our hearts, right where we are, to receive His word and allow it to take root in us?

No, friends – as far as sharing the love of Christ with others – we need not liken ourselves to the Sower in the parable. We need liken ourselves to the sower Paul refers to when he reminds us that neither he who plants nor he who waters is ANYTHING. Why? Because it is God who makes a seed grow (1 Cor. 3:17).

That’s it. That’s the whole truth of being a gardener, friend. God gives the growth. We should absolutely do what we can to help plant the seed into prepared soil – but we should never mistake our role in the process. If we are sowers, let us take the example from the Little Lady Sower and sow with joyous abandon, expecting fully that in God’s time and in God’s way, He will bring to life what we plant in faith.

From my heart to yours,