The waiting Father
and the waiting farmer
have some things in common

An idea is born
some winter season
and comes to being

Springtime finds the chosen seeds
carefully placed in soil
Mothered well
tiny plants poke up
and drink in sun and water

Oh, how they stretch and grow
taller and taller through the days
days of warmth, and days of wind
days that stroke, and days that test
taller and taller they grow
then birth their seeds
marked with mother and father

All along,
the harvest season
has been a part of the plan
Some day, you see,
the harvesters roll
set their sickles, fine tuned
to the plants
and begin the final swaths

The plants devoured
but the seeds carefully saved
are food for today and tomorrow
and seeds for next year’s harvest

Nestled in this tale
is a time
just before the harvest
When the farmer waits, knowing
the time is coming
Patience? Oh the virtue!
He sleeps in peace
and watches with care
day after day
He waits.

In another dimension
yet there all the time
a waiting Father
and watches
His people move
across the earth
from the soil, till the soil
become the soil again, except
In Him
their spirits are forever
He’s waiting for you
and for me

Lin 10/08 Waiting