quiet growth

I have been pondering growth a lot lately.  It is probably due to this conference I have been asked to participate in that has me thinking about soil and seeds and water and nutrients.

I watched my babies grow and celebrated each milestone and worried over each delayed milestone. In parenting I have felt the pressure that all children should be experiencing this or that by a certain age even though it is common knowledge that not one child is like the other and therefore have different rates of growth and achievement.

At times that’s been difficult to remember.

I am at a point in my parenting where I am, at times, anxiously waiting for the seeds that I planted into my kids’ hearts to take root and grow. When they were young I amended their heart’s  soil by adding in the nutrients of unconditional love, which did what was best for them and not necessarily what they wanted.

I planted the seeds of kindness, selflessness, respect, responsibility, repentance, and forgiveness. I hopefully gave them the right tools to tend to the garden of their souls.

I watered it with gentle responses (at times not so gentle and thank God for their forgiving hearts). I watered it with showing them kindness and respect. I watered it with humbling apologizing for my own parenting failures.  I water it with prayer.

Now I wait. I continue to plant those seeds, but now I wait.

I wait for God to give the growth. I can walk my kids through the steps of what selflessness looks like. Maybe it’s seeing trash on the floor and instead of walking by it,  we go together to pick it up and throw it away. Or maybe it’s doing a sibling’s chore. And sometimes it’s walking with them through the repentance and forgiveness process for something they did wrong.

But I wait for God to cause those seeds to grow in their hearts. I cannot make them grow. I cannot force them grow.  I want to though.

Especially when it’s hard to wait on God.

This is part of my rest. This is part of my desperation for God. It’s the waiting on him. It’s the stilling of my mind and soul and emotions to be still in his presence and whisper, ‘God? Here I am. I am a jumbled mess. But here I am.’ and then be quiet. 

Being quiet in God’s presence takes practice. It takes discipline. It takes moments of failure to train our minds to be quiet. To be quiet of worry, but to be loud in pondering the nature of God:

The goodness of Him.

The mercy.

The kindness.

The love of God, the love so overwhelming that it drives out all fear.

The power of God that causes those seeds to grow.

You are a seed planter. Plant your seeds and wait on God to water them and grow them.

 

 

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