This winter I planted wildflowers with my little boy. Tiny seeds that I poured from a paper envelope into the palm of his hand have grown into brilliant little shoots of green in tiny peat pots. In the midst of January, that green is lively and delicious. The little shoots grow taller every day and, hungry for the source of life, they lean desperately toward the window light. Plants that you would expect to grow upward in fact lean nearly ninety degrees toward the window. These seedlings stop me in my tracks; make me a better mother.
Sometimes God speaks in whisper. Sometimes He whispers through wildflower shoots in kitchen windows in January. How great is our God.
Shhhhhh . . . quiet now . . . do you hear?
He is speaking, dear one. He is speaking just for you:
“Lean toward the Light.”