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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Hard and Soft (04/23/09)

TITLE: The Masters Garden
By Gloria Graves


The Masters Garden

The Master waited patiently for planting season. With great care he had prepared the body of land. The soil had been turned; old growth had been tilled under. Weeds had been cultivated; the body was cleaned and ready to birth a miracle.

The wise gardener waited though, knowing not to plant until the time was right. He waited until darkness came. He waited until threatening grey clouds appeared and blotted out the blue skies and the heavenly light above. He waited until there was no hope. Thatís when the time was right. He knew that was the day, the time to plant. The Sower hurried to sow not wanting to let the perfect season pass.

Before letting go the Master studied the precious seed in his hand. He had great hopes for the seemingly insignificant receptacle no larger than a piece of dust. The Master lovingly touched the seed in his hand knowing that once planted the seed had to die. The gardener watched the seed fall to the earth. It disappeared when a mountain of earth covered his desire. That is when death came.

It would take the water to bring back to life and to re-hydrate what had been dormant for so long. The Heavens rumbled across the horizon when an orchestra of trumpets blew. A blinding light struck the earth to enrich the soil; then the rains came down from heaven upon the garden causing an oasis of hope and growth. The seed soaked up the life giving water and the water made soft the hard outer shell of the newly planted.

In time the gentle spring rains ceased. Then, the dawn came and out of the dawn came a radiant light that emerged from the heavens. The warmth from that light shining upon the garden would nurture and germinate what lay dead beneath the mud.

The heart of the Master Gardener watched the newly planted garden. Life was still hidden in the darkness but he knew that more rain and more light would birth what had been still. He patiently watched and waited for new growth to emerge. Once it pushed its way out of the ground it could be a seed no more. The Gardener knew that growth would bring eternal life for the tiny seed. That seed could reproduce and leave a legacy that would remain forever. That seed could spread the hopes of the Master Gardener throughout the world.

It had begun! There was movement! There was life! The Master saw the struggle of birth. The kernel was small but sprouted. Minute but firmly rooted. Leaves sprouted like wings ready to soar. Where there was once death there was now new life.

Yet, the Master knew growth would be hard. Drought temporarily stunted development. Storms ravished the fullness of life in the Masters garden. Evil came to plant its seed, thorns, to choke out and to take over the Masterís garden. But, the small plant held on to life.

The Master continued to tend the garden, not to abandon the love his heart had planted. The healing touch from the Sower replenished what evil had done. He so wanted the garden to grow in wisdom.

Another season had come. Time and maturity adorned the once tiny seed with a crown. From a grain of dust the mustard seed soared above the herbs in the garden. A golden yellow crown burst forth into bloom adorning every branch. The Gardener inhaled to smell the sweet fragrance that filled the air. The seed had become a plant yielding seed. The seed ripened falling to the ground. Then the winds came and on the wings of the winds seed spread throughout the countryside and all over the land.

I am that seed. I am the impossible come to life. I am that giant standing in Godís field of giants. I am wild. I am dangerous. I will spread my seed like a weed in barren soil and in gardens without growth. I will scatter my seed into the winds and choke out the weeds. You canít stop me.

ďIf ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.Ē Matthew 17:20

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Member Comments
Member Date
Seema Bagai 04/30/09
Poetry in prose. Beautiful writing in this piece.
Lollie Hofer05/05/09
I agree that this story was poetic within its beautifully written prose. Thanks for sharing!