But the greatest change of all was in seed number One. She had spent the dark, cold night in thinking of the promise she had given and about which she had been reminded by seed number Two. Gradually the angry, rebellious feelings passed away and she began to realize how sinful her spirit had been. And now that the warm sunshine had turned the cold, wet clods into a blessing she most heartily felt ashamed of herself and could get no rest until she gave some expression to this feeling. She began by snuggling closer down among the clods and trying to make them feel that she was glad to be among them.
Then she whispered to them softly: “I am so sorry for the rude, impatient, angry words I spoke yesterday when I first came among you. Can you forgive me?”
“Certainly we will,” said the big clod that the seed had accused of mashing her. “I know we are rough looking companions for a tiny seed and oftimes we are forced, by influences from without, to act rudely. But Mother Nature knows our needs and will send water to soften our natures and men will lift and stir us about so that we can do our very best work in helping you and other seeds to perform life’s obligations.”
“Yes,” replied the seed, “I now remember how my mother used to praise you and tell us children that the nice juicy food she brought for us to eat came from the soil surrounding her roots.”
“I am glad you can remember us so kindly,” responded the clod. “Though we are the lowest of God’s creation, we are also the oldest, and He has most graciously used us as an instrument in performing His higher works. We hold a very humble place, and are trodden upon by all of His creatures, yet we are happy in realizing that we, too, have a direct commission from him and a part to perform in the creation of the great living world above us. Our most extensive and immediate work is helping Mother Nature to produce the vegetable kingdom, to which you belong, and we want you to feel,” continued the clod, “that you are among friends who are waiting and anxious to serve you.”
“Thank you,” replied the seed; “you are very, very kind, and I am sure I shall learn to love you dearly.” Saying this she crept down closer into the warm little crevice and the clod, absorbing the water that had been turned into the furrow, melted around her and gave her protection, moisture and food.
The next night did not seem so cold to the seeds. They had become better acquainted with the soil and through the influence of the sun and water were clasped more warmly and tenderly in his arms. There they lay and waited until the little germ within them began to stir and knock for egress. The kind soil had by his own virtues softened their walls so that it was not difficult for the swelling germs to make an opening through which they stretched tiny white hands and laid them lovingly into the strong ones of their benefactor. In these handclasps were pledged mutual co-operation, sympathy and love throughout life. “Useless each without the other.”
No sooner had these little hands made sure of their hold upon the soil than there came an irrepressible longing in the heart bud to reach up and to know another world. In obedience to this call the little bud peeped out of its own hull and crept softly through the soil, up to the sunshine and air. There it unfolded two tiny leaves in thankfulness and praise to One who had made possible this new life. As the fullness of the higher world was comprehended, other leaves were thrown out until the little plant became a whorl of praise and gladness.
At this juncture new difficulties arose. These little leaves forgot their higher mission of love and praise and began to crowd and push each other, each striving to grow tallest and command the greatest space. As seeds number One and Two lay very near each other it was not long before their leaves came together in the air world. They had been so busy growing that they had talked but little to each other since the first night. Seed number One had grown so happy, gentle and meek that she was fast gaining friends on all sides. Every one regretted that they had so harshly condemned her. But now this new trial was a severe test to her genuine heart goodness. At first she made some show of patience, for seed number Two, her closest neighbor, was so unselfish and gentle in all that she did that there was little excuse to be otherwise. But no sooner did other leaves come into the space she considered her own than her leaves began to rustle and complain and to say: “It is no use for me to try to grow, crowded up like this. I wish I had been planted somewhere all by myself.”
Then seed number Two gently whispered: “He who took you from your mother’s dead arms, kept you from freezing during the cold winter months and prepared for you this nice loose furrow in which to grow had a right to plant you where He wished and to do with you what He thinks best. As for ‘growing room,’ there is likely to be plenty of it within a few days for all those who have the good fortune to be here.” At this there was a rustle of surprise among the bystanders and they asked what she meant.