Spring. Flowers rising from newly turned dirt. Birds’ singing in budding trees. Sunshine pouring warmth.
New life in the soil of my heart. Jesus’ resurrected life exploding with joy, light. He is the Giver. I am the receiver.
He is Life. He came to give life. He gave Himself. His death, my life.
He takes my deepest fears, loneliest moments, overwhelming hurts. He exchanges them for gifts that only He can give.
The Creator breathing life into me. I cease striving, and slowly offer myself to Him. His gentle hands caressing my soul.
Dandelions waving yellow, and white in the wind. The fragile white balls grasping seeds. Holding the tender green shoot in my hand, I blow the white feathers with seeds. Seeds scattering in the wind.
Seeds driven by winds fall on fertile ground. Seeds that bring new life. Flowers blooming in fallow fields. Color changing barren landscape.
God invites me inside. The Creator pouring his creativity into me. He is the Master. I simply open my hands.
Paper turned to art. Colors He created placed together. Ribbons draped over and through. The covering for the seeds.
The Writer whispers His words. Ink flows form the words on paper.
His love, my hands. We are blowing life seeds.
Seeds driven. Carried in the wind. Discouraged friends. Weary teachers. Long forgotten grace givers.
He knows each name. He knows their deepest needs. We write. We are blowing life seeds.
Hidden verses in His Word exposed. He knows the cries of the heart. My hands following His lead. He is the Giver. I am the receiver.
He wants to bring life. He chooses to use my dirty hands. We are blowing life seeds.
Seeds blow where I cannot see. Life overwhelming death. He asks me to give without knowing. Blowing without holding flowers.
It’s not about me. It is His Life. He is the Giver.
I quietly walk beside Him in my meadow.
We are blowing life seeds.
Photography copyright © by Jane Carole Stein