Kristin Fields Chadwick

This boy who has dealt with the deep dark and dense soil that surrounded him…this boy whose left and right was black and white on some days. Some days I wondered underneath the dirtiness, the filth, if there was a seed planted down underneath the top soil. Some days as a mother I loathed the tilling. Some days I sat and wept my tears of anguish and sadness over the seed that seemed too far gone to sprout. But lo, the waiting…the process of waiting. The process of sticking with it has come to surface. The prayers that rained down into the thick weedy ground penetrated. The step into the unknown proved to be the next right move. The seedling cracked open. He pushed his way up through the dirt and the Farmer encouraged him to look up and up out of the top soil he rose. Roots deep below I am sure. I am sure I won’t know the depth of the roots till I get to heaven. But there in the sunlight my little Seedling has sprouted. He has bloomed and stretched out his shining arms that were in his DNA all along. He is beautiful. He is joy. It may storm out in the open, but the floods have passed with the resulting muck. I am so thankful that he can see hope. That I see Hope.