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Writer's pictureDanie Waddell-Cranford

taking root

I have buried the seed - deep and deeper still - and God has watered it.


I feel the roots taking… well, root. I feel the shell of the seed cracking, breaking, making room for what will come. It’s invisible now, but the magic is taking place under the surface.


It is painful. What was once safe, secure, close in the darkness of the small seed is now stretching toward the light. It’s the bittersweet mixture of pride and fear, like watching a baby take their first steps, or sending off a fresh driver behind the wheel. This is the next right step, but it doesn’t feel comfortable, the time went too quickly.


But God. I stamp my foot like a spoiled brat when I read or hear the phrase. “But God’s timing is perfect.” “But God always makes a way.” “But God promises life and life abundantly.”


I know. I know it’s true. The truth of all of those phrases wraps me up like a warm security blanket, but I also know what comes next. “But God” means things are going to get uncomfortable. Things are going to change and grow and slip through my fingers, whether in failure or success. I am going to be made vulnerable, on stage for critique, above surface to be trampled on.


I’d rather remain here - in the warmth of the security blanket, in the welcome darkness of the whole seed shell, in the familiar of the underground. I know the sunlight will help me grow, I know it will be worth it, I know it will likely be wonderful and enjoyable and just fine, but I also know it will hurt. And I don’t like pain. Who does?


Nevertheless, the roots are taking their place. The seed shell has been pierced and crushed and set aside. There is new life coming, ready or not. But God is with me, and I feel Him all around me.


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