where waves grow sweet

While in my backyard yesterday, I noticed a few bright yellow dandelions sticking out of the grass. Upon closer inspection, I spotted two that had passed the flowering stage and turned into seeds; billions of them, probably, judging by the way they reproduce. As I grabbed one, in an attempt to keep its fertility out of my garden, several of the featherweight seeds caught the smallest breath of air and sailed through my fingers to fulfill their destiny of producing more dandelions. While I’m no fan of pernicious weeds, even when they take the shape of sunshiny flowers, I let out the most delighted squeal at the sight.

You see, it reminded me of a mental image the Lord gave me after Cole died. It was of a seed flying through the air like a little helicopter, carrying – through its death – new life. I had a feeling that seed was going to travel far. And that I was going to get to accompany it. The message to my heart was that because Cole’s life had passed the flowering stage here on earth and become a seed that God would carry and plant, many others would experience new life as a result. It moved me and I tucked it away inside. But it wasn’t until I was trying to confine those darn dandelion seeds that I realized how marvelously uncontainable new life can be. And, holy cow, how much greater when it comes not from natural life but from the resurrection power of God. I feel like I could float up into the air myself at the thought of it.

So I am reminded once again that Cole still has a purpose here and encouraged to keep surrendering my hopes, dreams and expectations of how things should be; to lay down my life instead of clinging to it. Only then can I become a life-filled seed carrying resurrection in my very DNA… destined – uncontainably and without limit – to produce more of the same.

I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels—a plentiful harvest of new lives. John 12:24