The Most Precious Seed
The abyss of hate
Where envy, pride, and greed
Choke the earth as tangled weeds.
Though a rarity,
Is most precious of all seeds.
Sown carefully, she ever grows
To fill our deepest needs;
Her power’s limit no one knows—
Save Him whose voice she heeds.
Reflections on Extraction
On paper curled with age and worn,
In faded ink to edges torn,
I read through phrases much the same
As others I have read before,
Until at last I see your name.
My thoughts go back to when you lived:
Your home, your days, the work you did.
Our lives are mirrors of each other
At least in part because we’re mothers.
And through the years rolls on the plan
That Father in Heaven made for man,
For all must live and work and die,
Then waken new—so you, and I.
My joy is sweet to know we share
A bond with sisters everywhere.
Yesterday I saw your name
And once again the feelings came.
You now are free from earthly care,
And yet, somehow, I see you there.
I feel your love for one so new;
I sense your grief and sorrow too
For those you’ve lost, for heartaches past.
I pray that you’ve found peace at last.
In time and place you’re far from here;
I wrote your name and felt you near.
We hold life’s tapestry within our hands,
Each trying to discern its weave and hue;
With faith we reach for premortal strands
And interlace the old with cords of new.
God has pulled the warp threads strong and tight
To help our unskilled fingers feel the way;
He lets us choose the patterns that are right
And guides the shuttle as we work each day.
He’ll walk beside us as design takes form
On this mortal loom, and He’ll inspire
The colors that endure both sun and storm
And keep their beauty through last-day fire.
These threads we interweave by earthly sight
Will pick up glory in eternal light.