The Process of Sprouts

I swear, when I went to bed last night, the huge patch of dirt I had planted with grass seed five days ago was still barren. Completely barren! The seeds were defiantly still visibly laying lightly mixed in with dirt, completely void of new tender grass shoots. I had watered the shit out of it twice a day for five days, and nothing. There was not even a hint of a green hue. Nothing even remotely worth getting down with a magnifying glass to investigate. I was feeling desperate, on the brink of throwing in the towel. My belief that almost anything is possible was running the risk of laughing in my face.

Planting grass in August, when temps have been 90 degrees, is far from ideal. But in my mind, leaving it to just plain dirt until late September was an option I wanted even less. Weeds in barren dirt would then become another step I'd have to deal with before seeding it to grass. I opted for the gamble of nursing grass seed along in the brutal heat. 

I vacillated between two methods of watering; sprinkling from a sprinkler for long periods, and standing motionless by the stubborn seeds while lightly misting the earth back and forth with the sprayer end of my hose. I kept it up. Both entailed not only water, but my internal mantra to the grass to grow as I painstakingly urged it with water from my hose. 

Now I knew that well and/or city water just doesn't hold the all encompassing qualities that rain water does. I continued my mental rain dance as I manually watered knowing one good rain could sprout those blasted seeds faster than all my watering combined, Technically rain activates more uptake of nitrogen/nitrates to the roots of living things. And, it would save me time watering twice a day! I was quickly becoming weary of the being the safe keeper of those seeds!

As I walked outside this morning to do a little running, with more walking involved than running, I turned to glance at my big area of dirt planted with grass seed. There it was - a slight hue of brilliant green covered the dirt! It had sprouted overnight with one good rain. I wondered, "If I had sat in a chair all night with a light on it, could I have visibly seen the fragile shoots break the seeds?" Wispy and fragile, they shouted their fortitude to sprout and grow! I felt their roar.

All my watering had garnered really nothing visible. It had though, at least made me feel I was contributing to its growth, or somehow controlling whether it sprouted or scorched in the brutal August sun. Ultimately though, it was something not in my control that produced its grassy growth.  Rain was nothing I could create, orchestrate or even schedule to show up. It was part of the process of growth that I could trust to do what it was intended to do - sprout and flourish all living things. I knew that, but was taken by surprise that the process worked yet again.

I felt like that patch of dirt - ready for the process of change to work its process to produce good things. I merely needed to do my part and trust the process.

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