Chosen

 

Like a gum wrapper or a pop can

tossed out of the window,

so some children are broadcast like

unwanted seeds along the roadside.

They take root where ever they

can burrow in to be counted among

the unnoticed weeds.

They find ways to push toward

the light to receive wandering drops of love.

They crowd and pull and reach

to prove they are the fittest.

To them hope is undefined and

longing an unreachable ray…

Until they hear…”Stop the car!

look at those flowers!”

They look around and feel

like just another weed.

Unaware of the pedals of worth

and stems which had risen above

the gravel in which they were broken,

they breeze bend toward the voices.

I imagine many of us have been there

in one form or another.

We took it a little too seriously when

someone would tell us we were growing

like weeds or some other 

definition of inattention.

We would unconsciously

self talk into doing more,

loving more, and dispense colorful

persona’s to bring a portion

of attention.

Maybe then someone will notice us

among the unknown weeds.

Each seed, smooth and firm,

is broken within God’s mystery.

Where ever the breaking open occurs

it is always within sight of the

Master Gardener.

The light which might scorch

brings baking temps.

The water which might drown

brings moisture to earthly potential.

We, apprentices all,

learn to tend the soil.

We aerate, till, and water.

We pluck, trim, and prune.

Then, sometimes, we transplant

from a roadside to our garden.

We hold on to their unfurled

pedal of hope

until the soil that came with

them is no more.

We long for them when, to them,

longing only brings a withering

pain of despair.

Hope and longing are

fertilizing the soil

while love pours over them.

This was written a while ago for some friends on the day they adopted Malachi and Mercedes and submitted to RAP in the High Callings Blog Network