Casting Seeds

Father, I just want to tell You all the things on my mind. Because I’ve been in my head excessively—it’s oppressing me and causing anxiety.

I want to give these thoughts over to You—let You hold them, take care of them: “Cast your cares,” You tell me.

I grip these thoughts, like seeds in my hands, closed fists. Tiny and rough in my palms. I want to open and hold everything out to You, surrendered.

My fingers stretch. Take them, these thoughts. I give them to You, lay them down, here in the earth beneath my feet; I plant an offering. 

The seeds are there now, buried in the ground for You. And I will sit back and wait and watch. But I won’t forget, because I will bring the water and pour out my prayers on this ground where my thoughts are buried in Your care.

Here I am, in the waiting. Expecting, wondering, hoping. Will there be life here? Creation, restoration? Is there a miracle at work, even a whisper of growth? 

Come, my friend, and see. Look at my little row of seeds, planted underneath the dirt. Some are freshly planted. Some are just poking above ground. And some have grown tall and sprouted leaves of healing.

The sun is shining down on us and there is a breeze of freedom here, making the little green leaves quiver, happy. And I can sit back on my heels and watch the Maker’s work.

This is my ritual of surrender. Trusting, releasing, laying my heart down. I cast my cares, because I know my Father cares.

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