Growing up in the Midwest, farming analogies were a common if not ubiquitous part of daily conversation.  Although my urban family did not farm, my mother's family (parents and brothers) did.  Many, many friends at my undergraduate college in central Nebraska were rural kids, and if their parents didn't farm or ranch, they lived in a town where agriculture was the economic engine.  "How 'bout this weather" OR "Sure is dry" OR "We could sure use some rain" were almost expected in the early part of any conversation.  The Missouri River Valley is fertile farm land.  The Platte River feeds irrigation circles throughout the state.  The plains, carved out by glaciers, are flat and well accommodate row crops, and the rolling hills are dry, but suited for cattle grazing.  So, it would have been difficult for me to escape a basic understanding of farming, even if I'd wanted to (which I didn't).  I love being out in the beauty of wide-open spaces, of Midwest agriculture in all it's forms, the symmetry of the rows, the promise of future food or sunflowers.  

I came to understand early that all soil is not created equal, and was taught that there can be "bad seeds" in the world (sometimes a reference to a person who couldn't seem to avoid trouble, but also describing a seed packet for flowers or veggies that just got too old, or too wet).  So, one could plant bad seed in the best soil ever, and it wouldn't thrive.  Or, one could plant great seed in the wrong spot and the same thing would happen.  So, today's Gospel lesson, when I first heard it some 60 years ago, really "stuck".  For a change, the lesson made immediate sense, had context in my world, and could be immediately applied in my family, in our small flower beds.  Jesus wanted us to know that each of us were good seed, and could be - although not guaranteed - blessed with good soil.  Sometimes our environments, or the friends we choose, or the addictions we face, or the difficulties we endure feel like the footpath, the rocky ground, or the patch of thorns where seeds fail.  But make no mistake, every one of us is a gift from God: every one of us is Good Seed.

Every year, when I'm gardening each spring, I spontaneously and without conscious effort begin to hum or sing from the hymn "Lord, let my heart be Good Soil."  It makes me smile every time, because it just effortlessly happens!  The hymn sprung forth again today, when I read this Gospel lesson.  It reminded me to think beyond the obvious lesson that each of us is considered by God to be Good Seed; to also accept that Jesus was inviting us to accept our obligation to each other to create an environment that is Good Soil.  A space of peace and love and acceptance and grace.  If MY heart is open and loving and full of God's light, and I share that light with you, then I've created Good Soil in which you can thrive and grow.  

I was SO blessed to have such a tender gardener, in the person of my Grandmother.  She (along with my grandfather, who died when I was only 5) was both Good Seed and Good Soil.  Grandmother Alice did everything she could to tend her eight children, her 23 little grand-seeds, and every other soul she touched, so we could sprout and thrive.  What a blessing to have had her!  What a blessing to be able to pass on, in small measure, her tender care!  What a grace to accept God's gift of being Good Seed, and to heed God's call to be Good Soil.  Amen.