planting hurts
The earth never apologizes
for refusing fruit
during the season of sowing.
Fields remain silent.
Hands become dirty.
The sun burns.
The back bends.
Seeds disappear beneath the soil
without applause.
The man who plants
does not walk
with the confidence
of the man who harvests.
His posture is different.
His eyes search horizons
instead of counting barns.
His hands release
instead of receive.
His pockets grow lighter
before they ever become full.
Yet he keeps planting.
He understands
that wealth
is measured by seasons,
not by moments.
How strange we have become.
We desire the table
without preparing the field.
We crave the harvest
while refusing the sowing.
We want the applause
without the hidden years.
We long to gather
what we never scattered.
But the earth
has never negotiated
with impatience.
It remembers
every seed.
It rewards
every faithful season.
Planting carries
its own kind of suffering.
The suffering
of saying “No”
when comfort whispers “Yes.”
The suffering
of discipline
when pleasure calls your name.
The suffering
of rising early,
learning constantly,
working quietly,
saving faithfully,
giving consistently,
and believing
when nothing visible
has changed.
Planting hurts.
But harvest
requires
that pain.
No seed,
no crop.
No roots,
no fruit.
No sacrifice,
no abundance.
The field
never lies.
A barren harvest
does not begin
during harvest season.
It began
months earlier,
when no seed
ever touched
the ground.
So embrace
the season
that Heaven
has placed before you.
Do not envy
the man
whose barns overflow.
You do not know
how many lonely mornings
he spent
walking empty fields,
carrying nothing
but seed
and hope.
Your assignment
is not to imitate
his harvest.
Your assignment
is to honor
your planting.
Scatter generously.
Work faithfully.
Endure patiently.
The harvest
belongs
to those
who accepted
the pain
of planting
without demanding
the pleasures
of harvest
before
their appointed season.
Comments
Post a Comment