Spring

Spring had finally defeated the cold season, sending winter to ground. She had rested well. Healed from failure and mistakes while the soil slept.

She had been raised to seek the good, no matter how minuscule, because it was a seed that could bear fruit no matter how poisoned its soil.

Every spring, she would tend to dead earth. Over and over. Nursing weak, fragile shoots of goodness. Love was the sunshine. Trust, the rain. 

Disappointment grew like apples from a poisoned orchard. The shoots, bending and snapping. Dying from the darkness she often could not overcome.

Still, no matter the failures, the number of crops destroyed, the seed of hope that had been planted in her own heart had roots strong enough to weather the pestilence.

No plague of hate could penetrate the garden that grew within. And while she stood against the ridicule from hearts who's soil had grown tainted, a seedling would flourish, her effort, rewarded.

A seed that would go on to start a new garden. Who, in spite of the quality of the soil, knew belief in good was the faith needed to overcome.

From their harvest hearts were healed, hope restored, love, believed in. No matter the disappointments, all were welcome at their table. There are no secrets in kindness, no reward in letting a heart go hungry.

Natasha Head

Perhaps the sunshine has gotten to me. It's certainly been a week of spring fever and desperate word hunting. Not my usual fare, but fun. Hope you found it worth your time...and...if you find yourself so inclined, I'd absolutely love it if you visited Faith,Fiction & Friends today. Glynn has provided a wonderful preview of my latest release, "Birthing Inadequacy" and has even included a poem from the collection. It kind of made my day, and it would be awesome if you helped me say thanks.