It's not easy. But it feels good to get my hands dirty. Sometimes in life you hardly need any seeds, other times, like recently, there aren't enough seeds available to get you through the day.
Still you plant. Still you weed and prepare the soil. Sometimes the soil is your heart, your energy, your faith. Sometimes it seems so uncertain. Where is the rain when you need it? Why is it cold and windy when we need sun and warmth? Why must we dig so deep.
In so many ways seeds I scattered along the way have blossomed for me this season. I seem to water those with tears of thanksgiving. You know who you are and I thank you.
Other seeds have been sown and I have to let them go. Letting go is a struggle, patience is not my strong suit. I may shake my fist at them and fret at the uncertainty of it all. Like that helps the process even the littlest bit.
So I wait, and I plant. On the good days I trust that work is happening beneath the ground, and will bear fruit down the road. So I wait.