Sowing in Tears

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

I didn't intend to post more than once a day, but this seemed a continuation of this morning's post.

Sowing in Tears

The pain was more than he could bear. He had never realized that a broken heart could hurt so terribly, but he couldn’t just sit down and cry. It was planting season. So he took his bag of seed and went to the field.

There was no joy in his work. He didn’t hear the call of the meadowlark. He didn’t see the fields of yellow and lavender on the horizon. The smell of the fresh-turned earth escaped his nostrils. The bite of the pure spring air didn’t cause him to lift his head, for even as he broadcast the tiny seed his eyes were blurred and his hands were damp with tears wiped from his weathered cheeks.

Then, when he could bear it no longer, he fell on his knees and his head touched the broken soil. His tears fell into the furrows, wetting the tiny ovules nestled in the pocket of earth. No one heard. No one saw. There was no one to touch, to care, to say, "I understand."

To know such suffering—and still to sow.

* * *

Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting. He who goes to and fro weeping, carrying his bag of seed, shall indeed come again with a shout of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.

~Psalm 126:5,6


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