Seeds of Kindness

Today every muscle in my body is wondering what I was thinking yesterday. Lovely historic Owego, the town my brother lives in near my folks in upstate NY, was having a tree planting day. Since his wife Jenny is village trustee, I thought it would be supportive, as long as I was in town, to help plant trees. Jenny was one of the organizers, and has done some amazing things for little Owego which was devastated by a massive flood in 2011. About thirty folks from the community turned out to help, and I was (by far) the one who had traveled the furthest to help greenify Owego.
"You came all the way from North Carolina to plant trees?" asked one volunteer.
"Well, I was going to visit my folks anyway," I explained, "So I was glad to arrange it to coincide with this since Jenny is my sister in law."
My group was told we had to plant two trees, but then somehow or another, we were assigned 6 trees. I had come prepared with wrist splints, and work gloves...but 6 trees? At my age? What was most astonishing was there was a retired man, Barry, at least 25 years my senior who was overseeing the project who could run circles around my tree planting ability.

Since he was nearby, I asked him to hold my tree straight while I filled in the dirt. As soon as the tree was anchored by the dirt, Barry was raking and shoveling up a storm, putting me to shame. Later Jenny told me the kind elderly man had just lost his wife to cancer. She said he was a little at a loss as to what to do with himself so she had taken him under wing. Do you need any further explanation as to why I love Jenny?

Two hours later, our crew of four had planted all 6 trees. My folks met me in Owego, and we had lunch reservations at a cute little restaurant. I invited Jenny but she said that she had hours of work left and could not join us. However, she ended up appearing at the restaurant with Barry at her side. My parents, always gracious, were delightful companions and conversationalists, and Barry seemed happy in our midst. I think the time spent with Barry was even more valuable than planting the trees.

Barry is a "master gardener" (as is Jenny) and so we bombarded him with questions about the disturbing spate of weeds that had cropped up in my parents' new island of mulch and flowers.

"The seeds are always in the soil," explained Barry, "In fact, to control weeds you should not till your yard! If you till soil, the seeds that might have stayed buried are brought to light and can sprout. So you often get weeds when you till the soil."

But I was thinking of other seeds that when stirred in a community could yield a much more desired outcome. The seeds of kindness tilled by Jenny and my folks to that grieving man brought a harvest of joy. The trees the community planted will flower in the spring, after a winter of dormancy, dotting the flood ravaged town with bursts of color and hope. I loved considering how seeds of kindness, when brought to light, could sprout and what was once dead and buried, could still blossom.

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And he said, “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.” (Mark 4:26-29 ESV)



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