Grandpa and Grandma Jones leaned on their hoes and gazed at the frost-blighted crop. When a tear simmered like a cold jewel on Grandma’s cheek, Grandpa put his arm around her shoulder.
“We tried so hard,” Grandma sighed.
“We should have covered the plants, we should have listened to the weather forecast, we should have"—
“Aye, there is so much we should have done,” his wife sighed.
He helped her get down on her knees wondering all the while, what she wanted to look for. It was obvious that the garden was covered with whitened stocks. The early dawn coolness would soon dissipate and the then blackened stocks would look more pathetic than ever.
Granma searched until she found a pod with over-ripened peas, then another and another. Grandfather stooped down to help her search for seeds, and although pitifully few they did get some.
Grandpa and Grandpa looked at each other with new hope in their eyes. “We failed in so many ways, but there were some good fruit and plenty of good seed to start again.”
“Good seed,” Grandpa murmured looking with the eyes of faith into an unknown future. “Even if the soil was poor and covered with weeds, we need not despair because the seed was God’s.”
With shining eyes, Grandma shifted some seeds from one hand to another. “We will keep planting the good seed into the hearts of our children and grandchildren. Even if their hearts seem crowded with other things-“
“Or frozen—“
“We know that some will sprout—“
“And bring forth good fruit.”
They turned their back on their disappointing past knowing full-well they would keep planting, watering and nurturing each little seedling that sprouted, for surely someday and in some unforeseeable way the Lord would bless their efforts.
