Pray-Writing

So, yeah, writing emails to God is pretty much amazing.  And I'm planning to write here more, too, if I can.  I have to let go of chronic hurt and rejection and allow myself to be disposable.  Because you know what, trees dispose of their seeds all the time.  And then somebody picks up that seed, carries it around for a while, and tosses it.  Then a cat walks by and the seed clings to its fur until it scratches too hard and there goes that seed again.  Over and over that little seed is picked up, held, carried around and discarded.

Sometimes it thinks it lands in a safe place, and often it is wrong.  If a seed stays in an unsafe place too long, it starts to die.  Sometimes a seed lands in safe soil, in a place where there is the right blend of light and shade, and where it's not under the drip line of other trees.  And then that seed can grow.

It sends down roots that stretch toward the heart of the earth and the very center of all Being.  It sends up shoots that reach toward God and heart-truth and life.  When the roots take hold and seed is in the right place, it will grow as the seasons see fit.  It grows in times of growth, sheds dead leaves and branches when they are dead, and is dormant in times of cold, but the seed itself is always alive.  Before long, there is a sapling trying its hands at new leaves and fresh growth.

Our seed that is discarded never knows if it's landed in its place where it will send down those roots until the roots are down and growing.  And once the tree is big enough, it's impossible to uproot completely.  Not even a tornado can tear it out entirely; not even a conflagration can stop it from regrowing.  Not when that discarded seed lands in the right place.