Flower Bed Blooms (Photo credit: IBBoard)

Like in a plot of ground, all men are a crop.  The Lord Himself has carved out of nothing that which is something.  Harvest is coming.  It will be a place of ending and beginning.  What is will never again be.  And what will be has never yet been.

We are like magnificent flowers and edible fruit to He who is able to transform a weed into a luscious delicacy.  He tends over all men as a farmer would watch for the budding crop.  Here weeding out.  There grafting in.  And does the crop perceive the farmer’s love?  What He has planted, tended, and fertilized will become so very much more than a crop.  Though the end result has not been revealed, we trust that He is able to accomplish what He has promised.

We are flowers of hope, springing up from wild dirt.  Cultivated, cut, and brushed with Holy pollen by a wisdom beyond eternity.  Which of us decided to be that seed we were?  And when we sprouted above the surface of the ground, which of us determined that we could ascend beyond this place?  We grow at His command.  And it is right to return thanks as a flower will follow the sun across the sky.

By His Grace.