I’ve sprouted an apricot seed that’s now planted in a pot with soil.
I’m waiting, waiting, waiting for the first green shoot to emerge. I will then, after several months of growth, plant my apricot tree in the perfect spot in the backyard.
This whole journey began because a woman I met at the Boalsburg Memorial Day mentioned her amazing apricot jam filled Christmas cookies that she makes from the apricots from her backyard tree.
Apricots? In Pennsylvania? I smiled. I tented my fingers with a decision already made.
The seed had been planted.
A month passes and I find myself eating a delicious apricot whose dark, hard pit fell apart in my hands to reveal a tiny, fragile white seed. I wrapped the seed in a warm, damp paper towel and placed it in my sunny window. Days later, an inch long root emerged. Then, the top of the seed began to crack open to reveal the plant to come.
So I planted that seed!
Oh the joy of just watching it grow!
I think about the tiniest seeds planted in conversation. I think of the seeds of God’s word that fall into an open hand which, when carefully cultivated, sprout green in the heart. I think of the seeds of faith planted, too.
How I love seeds! How I love what they do and all they hold inside!
Maybe, in a decade, I’ll be the one with the apricot-filled Christmas cookies giving a hopeful project to a woman at a fair.