Seeds

I have not had much success with seeds. Lately, I bought packets of them — morning glory, bitter melon, eggplant — which I entrusted to the help for potting. After a week, when I inquired about them, his face fell, mine even more, because already, from his dejected look, I could tell that the seeds had failed to germinate. True enough, when I checked the pots, I saw no signs of life, although the morning glory had slightly better luck — tiny cotyledons curled out, but on stalks that had stretched too fast, becoming thread-like, for which reason I gave it two days at the most to completely wilt.

Still, despite my track record in the matter, I persist in buying seeds. Whenever the wife and I go to the grocery, I tarry by the rack near the cashier, which bears, arranged like scales, different seed varieties – of flowers on one side, and of vegetables on the other, both of which I usually check for new arrivals. I will not give up and will continue planting the seeds, in the hope of one day seeing the garden dressed up in such as chrysanthemums and daisies — the pinks, reds and yellows of different blooms — and swollen with fruit of such as avocado, squash and eggplants.

This predilection might have arisen from childhood, from the fact that Mother had a well-tended flower garden that surrounded our house, which from afar seemed floating on a sea of flowers. One saw heliconia growing in every corner, and walked through trellises under a rain of yellow bells. Bougainvillea straddled most of the fence. Hibiscuses, canna lilies, Madagascar periwinkles, and of course, roses — I remember them, with both pleasure and pain, because the task of watering them, morning and evening, fell on me, my brother and my sisters, and woe betided anyone of us pouring into the pots a less than generous ladle of water.

As a child I received a gift — a packet of hollyhock seeds. I did not know what to do with it and ran to my mother for assistance. Immediately she set about sowing the seeds and then after a week planted the seedlings where the sun freely poured its light. In no time, a part of the garden teemed with purple flowers.

At one time I asked my mother her secret, and she told me, with a hint of a smile, that she talked to the plants, to the seeds. I failed to inquire what exactly she said which stirred the roots and the leaves into unsheathing themselves from the covering of sleep. But I presume that she whispered words of encouragement, perhaps even of pleading, for them to come to life.

I think of the parable in the Gospel of Matthew, which Jesus gave to the crowd, about a sower. “A sower went out to sow,” Jesus said. “And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky ground, where it had little soil. It sprang up at once because the soil was not deep, and when the sun rose it was scorched, and it withered for lack of roots. Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it. But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.”

Jesus explained the parable in this manner — “The seed sown on the path is the one who hears the word of the kingdom without understanding it, and the evil one comes and steals away what was sown in his heart. The seed sown on rocky ground is the one who hears the word and receives it at once with joy. But he has no root and lasts only for a time. When some tribulation or persecution comes because of the word, he immediately falls away. The seed sown among thorns is the one who hears the word, but then worldly anxiety and the lure of riches choke the word and it bears no fruit. But the seed sown on rich soil is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.”

If the hollyhock seeds could reply to my mother, what would they say? “We hear your words of encouragement, and take heart from them, and because you have put us in good soil and we receive a bountiful share of sun and water, here we are, growing with passion and not stopping until we bear pink, white, yellow or purple flowers and in time fruit that will split to free the seeds for us to go on thriving in this garden for as long as your goodness continues.”

The fate of the seed in the parable depended on its disposition to the word of God — whether it understood it, whether it had endurance, whether it could maintain its attention, or whether it truly appreciated and accepted it.

Perhaps God sends His word through the morning glory seeds, for instance, ensconced there like a pea in a pod. Perhaps the seeds fail to put down roots and leaves because I have not really paid attention and spoken to them — to the One who has uttered them.