Wednesday Words

A little seed lay in the ground and soon began to sprout. "Now, which of all the flowers around," it mused, shall I come out?

Then the little seed said to itself: I don't want to be a lily, for lilies are so cold and lofty. I don't want to be a rose, for the rose is rather loud in color, it dies quickly, its edges wilt and it isn't very practical.

I don't want to be a violet, for the violet is too small, too dark, and grows too close to the ground.

The little seed was like some people we all know. It was critical. It was critical of everything around it. It found fault with its neighbors. It didn't like the colors of some, the perfume of others, the size and shape of others. It had nothing constructive to offer, even in its own behalf. The whole theme of its life was criticism.

And so it criticized each flower,

this supercilious seed.

Until it woke one summer hour

And found itself a WEED.

From CMA Church Bulletin

From Streams In The Desert