Planting the Seed (Story)

The early morning sun rose gloriously as two walkers strolled down a quiet New England Main Street.

As they passed a new eatery, the woman grinned mischievously when she read the name: Mustard Seed Cafe. 

She sipped her coffee and commented, “That sign reminds me of something. Maybe something you said once, about a seed....” 

The man laughed, white teeth showing through his beard. “And what did you take away from that one?” 

She glanced about, looking for something to inspire a witty reply. “Wasn't there a parable involved...?” 

A little bird dove to the sidewalk before them, picked at the concrete block a moment, and then fluttered away. 

“No,” she admitted with a wry grin, “The parable in mind involved seed being tossed in different places, each failing save the seed that hit fertile grown and produced hundredfold or something like that.” 

He chuckled nodding, “...something like that. So what about the mustard seed?” 

She grinned as she took another sip. “Little seed becomes big plant. Right?” 

His deep brown eyes took on a blend of challenge and mischief, “Maybe you can write a story about it?” 

She smirked, “Yeah, right.” 

He gestured expansively with his arm, “You are a writer; you were given that gift. Write a story about it. Maybe then you'd understand it better.” 

She took a good swallow of her coffee, while she wrapped her mind around the challenge, knowing there was something there that maybe DID make a good story. As the story shifted to her mental back burner, the conversation changed, covering a broad range of topics. 

Before she knew it, they arrived at the topic she needed to broach. Part of her shyly wanted to hold back and digress, but another part knew this is why she asked her companion to walk with her this morning. She really needed his advice, his guidance. She rolled the still-warm metal travel mug between her palms as she searched for the words. 

“I... I really don't know what I should be doing with my life. All these little projects get started, and then... they just seem to peeter off into nothing. I feel like I start so many things and just can't seem to finish them. What is it that I should do?” 

He draped his arm lovingly across her shoulders and smiled gently. “Plant the seeds.” 

“And then?” 

“Nurture them a little until they sprout.” 

Her hands paused as she glanced quizzically at him. “And then?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” 

He grinned, seeing she wasn't getting it, but - with infinite patience - gave her the time to think. “Nothing.” 

She knew that look on his face, she'd seen it before. 

She walked wordlessly at his side for a spell, fingers wrapped around the warmth of the mug and her shoulders snug in his embrace. “But if I do nothing, what will happen to all I started? It would just unravel, wouldn't it?” 

“Not necessarily.” 

Again she shot him an inquiring look, raising one eyebrow in his direction. 

He laughed at her expression, but didn't say a word. 

“Well?” 

He paused and turned to face her, with a mischievous smile of his own. 

She stopped and faced him with a look that clearly read, “Tell me or stop teasing me.” 

He playfully poked the bridge of her nose and quietly replied, “That's my job.” 

The challenge in her eyes faded as comprehension dawned in her mind. 

Smiling, they resumed their walk. 

She nodded and tossed back the last of the coffee. “You're right. I really should trust you more often.” 

Companionably the two continued their stroll down a New England Main Street. Two pairs of sandals tapped quietly along the sidewalk: one pair worn below jeans and a T-shirt, and the other beneath a desert robe from a bygone age.