weeds

In April, He said this.

I was going to pick up my boy and I saw him.  Randomly standing on the edge of the street, spade and spray bottle in hand.  His bright red shirt caught my attention and when he looked up, I knew.

He was wearing sunglasses.

I drove back around the corner and him, the red shirt man, stood up and watched me.  I heard him say, behind my ears, "I am weeding".

There for a few days I had it, the clarity.  The removal of the old, to be replaced by the new.  The choking, toxic gone, to give room to breathe, to grow.

Until today.  When He came there, behind my ears again.  I am reminded of this now and the tears come.

So now my prayer is different. Soften the soil, then.  

Ears full of so many children's voices.  I envision a little house with green shutters and I just saw him hand me a gardening spade.

I'm returning to the field.  And though I've doubted, perhaps my heart always knew.

As I've said before, I have a feeling, perhaps in a different capacity, He will lead me back to it.