Traveling Seeds

Wading into the tall grass of our overgrown prairie field on a crisp autumn morning at Edelen Acres, I was after milkweed pods—those delicate, silky parachutes catching the low golden sunlight. Dressed in my favorite jade green sweater, I was so absorbed in capturing the light through my phone that I didn’t notice the quiet exchange happening below. It wasn’t until I walked back up toward the house that I looked down and realized I was completely coated in a hitchhiking army of little seeds.

“Welcome to life,” I laughed out loud to the empty yard, sitting down on the step to begin the tedious process of picking off my unwanted visitors.

As my fingers worked at pulling the tiny, stubborn hooks out of the knit fabric, my mind drifted to another kind of field we walk through unnoticed every single day. How often do I open a phone screen for just a quick moment, only to step away coated in invisible burs? I log on intending to check a message or look at a photo, but I walk away carrying thoughts that aren’t even mine: I should lose weight. I should do more around our property. I need to fix the home decor.

We don’t go looking for those seeds, yet there they cling, quietly shaping how we feel about our bodies, our homes, and our worth. They sit softly against our thoughts until we mistake their prickle for our own inner voice.

Picking the last seed off my sleeve, I was brought back to the words of 1 Peter 1:24:

“All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever.”

Sitting there in the sun, holding a handful of dried plant husks, the truth settled in:

• My identity is anchored in King Jesus, not in the curated snapshots or fleeting standards of a feed.
• He is molding me for eternity, a patient Craftsman working on a masterpiece that cannot be rushed by earthly comparisons.
• Only He knows what the finished product will look like. My job isn’t to force the outcome or fix every flaw culture points out; my job is simply to hold hands with King Jesus day by day and let Him lead the walk.

The standards of the world are as temporary as autumn grass. The trends fade, the home styles change, and the pressure to measure up turns to dust. But the slow, quiet work God is doing in our hearts endures forever.

Reflection Questions for Readers

What “hitchhiking seeds” or unwanted thoughts have you picked up while scrolling recently? How can you practice letting go of earthly comparisons and anchoring your focus on what endures today?