Seeds sown in tears...

My first born, child of my childhood. Quiet and deep. Wanting to do everything perfect from the beginning...erasing her first efforts at printing over and over again until it was just right. My firstborn seed, sown in the soil of our city. A decade now of her and her husband sowing here...sowing in many tears, and slowly, painfully, by faith, reaping in joy a bountiful harvest.

My middle child...strong-willed, stubborn...tiny, blond, blue-eyed bundle of determination. My secondborn seed, sown in the continent of Africa. Short trips, far apart with long periods of sowing in prayerful tears in between...but someday, a longer stay...her roots planted in the soil of that place she has longed for all her life.

My youngest, the last seed, was a surprise from the beginning. I already had two little girls and thought we were done...and three years later she came along. She was so easy, compliant, shy, quiet, easily corrected with just a word. A blessing-to me, to her dad, to her sisters...and now to You God, always to You.

I knew it was coming...knew it a year ago when I sat in the International House of Prayer with her beside me. I wrote in my journal, "this is where she belongs." It started out to be a three month commission class, and then this morning the email. "This is where I belong. This is where my heart is flourishing." She will come home for the holidays, and the first of the year, she will go back. Rooted, planted there in the heartland of our country, there in the heart of the 24/7 prayer movement, there in the heart of God's will for her. Another little seed of me, of her daddy, sown in tears as again we let go and pray that God will reap a harvest through our seed.

Our youngest, dancing with Daddy at a wedding.