seeds [part three]

After a summer-long hiatus from West Coast precipitation, it was really only a matter of time before the skies clouded over and the rains began. Summer rains are not so bad, though. There is still warmth in the air, and with the lack of any sort of moisture for months, the grass is in desperate need. So is our garden. While we've been enjoying the vegetables of our labour, we admittedly haven't been paying much attention to its nourishment and replenishment. For good reason, though; in lieu of catering to the growth of our garden, Susan has been busy looking after the growth of a different sort of seed.

It's clear that I am amazed by the growth of our plants from tiny seeds to their present state of, what seems like, taking over the garden. Thousands of leaves, plenty of blossoms and countless root systems developed, all from what once were seeds. And there will probably be a hundred tomatoes grown, another hundred blueberries, hundreds of peas, a couple dozen carrots, and plenty of squash by the time our summer winds down. It's still a mystery to me. Yet, even more mysterious is the growth that began a mere 13 weeks ago. From a seed infinitely smaller than a pea pod, a child has begun to form. While we have the awesome responsibility of ensuring that the right foods are eaten, the appropriate medication is taken, and as little possible stress is experienced in order to provide the best environment for our child, we ultimately know that his (her?) formation is out of our hands. Like the rain falling on our garden outside my window, it is only God's provision that will allow our child to shape and develop.

And by all accounts, all is well. We watched our baby in action earlier this week, moving around and getting comfortable inside his temporary home. (For the sake of this and future posts, our baby is a "he" until we see otherwise). Though he is only three inches in length, most of his parts are there. Already. He has fingerprints. He has nerves. Reflexes. We watched his heart pounding inside his tiny frame. A mystery, and a miracle, at its finest. Perhaps the only greater mystery is how it can be denied that what exists inside Susan's body is a living child.

Three months down. Six to go.