Last April I sowed wildflower seeds — I just raked the ground and scattered the seeds, as did the Sower whom Jesus talks about in the Gospels. As I let them go, the seeds sank into the dark earth where I would not be able to see what was happening to them. It was a simple act of faith and trust in Mother Earth. Those seeds were on a journey — a journey of waiting in the dark, and I found myself challenged by the words of the poet, Jessica Powers, “Joy waits with me. I think of the marvelous flower that is to come and how the light will hover over it. Now and again, though, is the message blurred by brief uncertainties.”
As the weeks passed, I wondered — would those seeds take root? Would they flower? Would they die in the dark? And then, the first minuscule shoots began to appear, to grow in strength as they reached out to the light, of the sun and my precarious wonder began to strengthen. “Who would have thought my shriveled heart could have recovered greenness? It was gone quite underground as flowers depart to feed their mother root when they have blown.” (George Herbert). Not all of the seeds survived, of course, but I was filled with wonder at the resilience of those tiny shoots that did continue to mature — so fragile and yet seemingly so determined to grow.
Today, our world seems to be filled with darkness and uncertainties — war, starvation, death in so many countries, destruction of so much of our planet. In all this darkness and suffering, as we wonder where God is, it seems impossible to experience the seeds of hope that we can nurture into blossoming. We need to be as convinced as Desmond Tutu was that “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all the darkness.”
With all of this in mind, in springtime this year I will once again sow wildflower seeds and I will again sense the challenge to my faith and hope. Would they take root? Would they flower? Would they die? I will watch and wait for the flowers to appear on the tiniest shoots, struggling upwards, preparing to bring joy and wonder.
As I pray for all those who are suffering in the darkness of our world today, I ask myself — can I be like the seeds and be consoled and encouraged with the words of the psalm, “If I asked darkness to cover me, and the light to become night around me, that darkness would not be dark to you, night would be as light as day.” (Psalm 139)
Columban Sr. Ann Gray provided this reflection.