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.

on direction

Direction
--not intention--
leads to destination

--some sage advice from our pastor the other day.

When my internal ponderings unhinge themselves from thoughts of work, marriage, home, etc, I consider, once again, my role as an employee, husband, man, Christian, [soon-to-be-father]. The thoughts come not in a narcissistic, egotistical manner, but in a more rounded set of introspections as one who finds himself in a vast, fallen, sometimes harsh and always complex world. In truth, the questions always (must?) come back to me and what my role within this framework is to be. Am I holding up my end of the bargain? Am I just doing and not being? Is waiting a good thing?

A series of questions crossed my train of thought the other day via a sermon:

What path am I on?
Where does it lead to?
Is that where I want it to end up?

All the best intentions will never lead to desired destination. I can intend to drive from A to B, but without direction, I'll likely end up at Z. To some, direction comes easy. For me, not so much...but that is changing. On top of these questions have come a number of challenges:

A challenge to be wise.
A challenge to be a man.
A challenge to be Godly.

I'm learning that without wisdom, I have no direction. And I am no longer just leading myself. My "i's" have become "we's." The easy thing to do is just let things be and see how they work out. But I know that's not what is expected of me, as a husband, as a Christian, as a man. So what's left? To pick up the pieces. To pick up the pieces of the past, examine them, rediscover them for the misdirection they have offered, to put them back down. And then to walk on. Lack of direction has left me with nothing but dreams and intentions. These, too, I must re-examine for their worth and potential, and then do with them what is best--what is manly, wise, and Godly.

Direction
--not intention--
leads to destination