Thinking About Hope In a Potato Patch
As I pull out the dried stems and leaves and dig through the dirt today to find the potatoes, I think back to the day the sprouts were buried deep in the garden soil. Each one was just a little piece of red and white with two or three small growing ends beginning to break out of the eyes. And we had hope and trusted that the Master Grower who created all things living had blueprinted reproduction in these potatoes and there would be plants and flowers and tubers soon growing. That was only four months ago and now I scrape the hard dirt away from eight or ten tubers per hill. The little bit of hope with some sunlight and rain grew and multiplied into these red orbs that will feed us and others on many days when the land is covered in snow.
Then I begin to think about the little bits of hope that are planted by my actions, sometimes not intentionally at all or even when I realize it. The times in a classroom when math problems are tackled or sentences are written. The smile and chat I have with a lonely student as I supervise at recess. The sharing of a few ripe tomatoes and crunchy apples with those who no longer have yards or gardens, only an apartment in town. The letters and scripture verses of love and guidance that are sent to Ethiopia and Brazil to our Compassion children. Small things to me really but perhaps to them a bit of hope planted in a lonely or hurting heart. Who knows what a few months or many years will grow with that hope? When watered and nourished by the One who promises living water and His light I am absolutely convinced that those seeds will mature in ways that I have no idea about now.
So I keep planting hope, daily and piece by piece, and leave the rest to Him.