The Seed That Trusted the Soil

Let us close our eyes... and walk into a quiet garden.

The evening is soft. A cool breeze moves through the grass. We kneel down and place one tiny seed in the earth. Pat, pat, pat... The soil covers it like a soft blanket.

Down in the earth, it is dark. The little seed looks around. "Where is the sun?" it whispers. "Where is the sky?" It feels a little unsure.

Then a soft voice hums all around it. It is the soil. "Shh... I am here. This dark is warm. This dark is cosy. Rest now, little seed. I am holding you."

The seed snuggles in. The earth feels warm, like a mother's shawl. Up above, rain taps on the ground... tip, tip, tip. Cool water trickles down. The seed sips it slowly.

Days go by... slowly, quietly. The seed cannot see itself grow. But it is growing. A tiny root reaches down. A tiny stem stretches up.

Sometimes the seed asks, "Am I growing enough?" The soil smiles. "Growing in the quiet is enough. Rest now, little seed. I am holding you."

One morning, the seed feels something new. A gentle warmth... from above. The stem stretches up... and up... through the soft brown earth.

And then... light! A small green leaf opens in the sun. It shines like a tiny green flag.

Down below, the soil still holds the roots. "You see?" it says softly. "I was with you all along. Rest now, little seed. I am holding you."

The little leaf sways in the warm sun... gently, gently. And we sit here with it... calm, and warm, and safe.