There was once a little seed who lived comfortably in a box. There was nothing spectacular about this seed. He enjoyed his tiny seedy life, simple though it was. However, one early morning, before the sun had even peeked over the horizon, a farmer opened the box, took the Seed, and placed him deep into the cold earth.
The Seed, enclosed by the earth in this early morning, had always heard about this Farmer; many of his other seed friends had told him that one day the Farmer might come. “Today is the day, I guess,” the Seed sighed, half-accepting, half-annoyed.
Days and days went by, and the Seed started noticing other seeds being planted next to him. It was nice to have company, and the Seed was beginning to actually feel very comfortable in the dirt. He had companions, a warm place to rest, plenty to drink, and that was all he required.
But then one morning, something started happening. The Seed felt a painful twinge in his shoulder, and he looked over and saw something that made him cry out in terror.
“What is this thing?!” He screamed.
“We heard it’s called a sprout,” the other seeds said ominously. “They say it’s all part of the process.”
“What process?”
They shrugged.
So the Seed tried to ignore the discomfort. This unwelcome change had to be dealt with eventually, but for now, the seed was content to turn away from the sprout. Maybe it would go away. But boy, it hurt.
A few days later, the Seed started to panic. The sprout was getting bigger and bigger. Now the Seed could hardly recognize himself. The sprout overshadowed him. In fact, he felt as if he was becoming the sprout.
“I don’t even recognize myself anymore!” He wailed in despair.
Just in the height of desperation, the Seed found hope — a new friend moved in next door. She was called the Weed. She was so kind to the Seed. She always listened to him, empathized with him, and often spoke nasty things about the Farmer.
“It’s really awful, isn’t it?” The Weed said, “How that horrid Farmer put you here so you could grow? I mean, what sort of monster would do that to you?”
“Yes,” the Seed said, his voice trembling with frustration. “I’m miserable.”
“You know,” she whispered sweetly, “I could help you.”
“You can? How?” The Seed looked up, feeling a twinge of nerves — something about how she said it…
“I can end your growth.” she said, with a weird smiled on her face. “You’ll go back to being a seed, when life was so much better! All I need to do is get close enough to you.”
“Really? You can end my pain? I don’t have to grow anymore? Yes! Please, whatever it takes. I just want to go back to being my old self.”
Days went by, and the Weed was reaching closer and closer to the Seed, and he was full of hope and fear — what would she do to end the growth? Would it hurt more? Would going back to being a seed be everything he wanted? He didn’t know, but the Weed insisted that this was the best option, and he wanted to trust her.
“I’m almost there,” she smiled brightly.
“I’m ready!” The Seed gulped, closing his eyes and bracing himself.
All of a sudden, without warning… Whack! Boom! The ground shook and the Seed opened his eyes. All he could see was the Weed being dragged up and out of the earth’s surface. She squealed and fought hard, but it was no use. Within minutes, she was gone. The Seed sat in silence, tears brimming. It was the Farmer. He uprooted her. He killed her. Now, the Seed had lost all hope. His wretched growth would continue, and that menacing Farmer was to blame. Seething anger arrested the Seed as bitter tears sprung out of his eyes.
Within a matter of weeks, the Seed no longer was cozy and snug in the ground. He had popped out of the earth. All he could see was blue. Nothing but blue. It was something unusual to the Seed — not altogether unpleasant, but not completely welcomed either. It seemed that the blue turned pink and purple at the end of the day, and then when night came, black spritzed with twinkling lights. To the Seed’s reluctant admittance, it was sort of pretty to watch.
At night, the Seed had time to think about his poor life. He no longer felt the same. Thanks to this growth, every day was agony. He felt stretched and overgrown. His friends probably thought he was looking down on them now that he was above ground. Why did the terrible Farmer put him in the ground? Why did the rain and sun make him grow? Why did he have to leave the comfort of earth?
One afternoon, for the first time ever, the seed could turn his “stem” and look around at his surroundings. It was… incredible. There were colors and shapes and images that he never expected to see.
An old sunflower looked down and shouted, “Welcome to the Garden, little fella!” The Garden. He hadn’t realized that this was the place he was planted. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so upset if he knew that this beautiful place was where the farmer put him.
Losing himself in the wonder of this Garden, he almost didn’t notice the Farmer. The Farmer was a simple man, with no impressive features. He bore no semblance of malice or greed, as the plant expected. In fact, there was an air kindness he carried with him as he walked the rows. He seemed to enjoy walking in the Garden with his tools, trimming and digging, with sweat trickling down his brow.
The Seed felt a sudden surge of shame. He looked around him and saw all the other beautiful plants and flowers. “I’m just a silly little sprout,” he thought. “I can’t compare to any of these. The Farmer would never notice me.” Imagine this bitter little sprout longing to be noticed by the Farmer he once despised?
But suddenly, a miracle happened. The Seed heard footsteps near him, and he looked up to see the smiling eyes of the Farmer.
“Well, there you are!” The farmer cried with delight, as he stooped down towards the seed. “My, how you’ve grown!”
The seed was speechless. The Farmer saw him? Knew him? Seemed to LIKE him? Oh, if only the Farmer knew how much the Seed didn’t want to grow. If only the Farmer knew what the Seed really thought before meeting him. If only the Farmer knew how much the Seed had hated him…
“You know,” The Farmer sat down, crossing his legs and folding his fingers together, “I’ve been a farmer for a really long time. Many seeds don’t make it. Sometimes, they just couldn’t… or wouldn’t… grow. I’m so happy, little one, that you grew. I know it wasn’t easy, and I know you maybe didn’t want to be apart of this garden at first, but I’m so glad that you are!”
The seed was in awe, and suddenly felt… well, he didn’t know what. Welcomed? Happy? Full? Understood? Too many emotions to count.
“Little one, I must tell you.” The Farmer leaned towards him with a sudden earnest in his voice and a tear in his eyes. “This growing won’t stop for a long time — and sometimes, I may need to cut off parts of you — and that will be painful. Won’t you trust me in this process? I promise you, it will be worth it.”
While this idea frightened the Seed, he found himself nodding and accepting. There was just something about this Farmer that was irrevocably compelling and trustworthy.
The Farmer nodded back, stood up and turned to leave, but the Seed wanted to know one thing:
“Farmer, since I’m no longer a seed… and you said I would grow a lot more… I wondered, what am I growing up to be?”
He laughed, his grey eyes gleaming as if they held a great and wonderful mystery. “A tree.” He then turned towards the cornfields, whistling a jovial tune and resting his garden hoe happily on his shoulder.
“A tree?” The Seed wondered. He didn’t know what this was, but maybe it was something good?