Scattering Seeds

 As I sat at her service and listened to all the people talk about her, my memories came flooding back. Growing up without any of my grandparents nearby, she was the epitome of an Alaska grandma: she baked the most delicious snickerdoodle cookies (and always seemed to have some on hand if you stopped by and said hello), held a serious love of good books and music, had the most unique and infectious laugh in the world, and possessed the greatest green thumb of anybody around. When I think of her, I think of John Coltrane music playing in the house and I think of her out in that garden of hers, weeding and raking and growing away. Always wearing a shirt or coat with flowers on it, she'd was out there even into her eighties, working away to bring a bit of beauty to the world around her.     

God kept her on this earth until just a few weeks ago and, although we hadn't spent as much time in person together over the last few years, I'd never forgotten or lost touch with this lady I called "Grammy" that had been such a fixture in my life all this time. One by one, dear friends from various seasons of her life got up to share and talk about what she meant to them and the same themes kept coming up: her friendliness, her spunk, her joy, her love, and her deep yet simple faith in God. But one other thing they all kept mentioning was her flowers. The fact that she, year after year, kept finding ways to bring color and beauty to the world around her was something that seemed to have stuck with many, including me. We all remembered her award-winning flower entries at the State Fair each year and the hundreds of poppies she has sown on the roadsides while out for her walks over the years. 

Yes... who could forget those beautiful orange and yellow poppies! 

Even after she'd moved from a neighborhood, those poppies kept coming up in the years that followed - a living testament to the beautiful soul of the lady who seeded their existence. Every Spring, she would get a packet of seeds and toss them out to the side in hopes that some sun and a shower or two would bring them to life. Appropriately, at her service, her family and close friends left some poppy seed packets out on a table and requested that those in attendance take one home and scatter it come Springtime in her memory. This small act of legacy-keeping made me pause because the metaphoric meaning was not lost on me at all... 

We are all sowing something in this life. The Apostle Paul said so himself when he wrote that "whoever sows to please their flesh... will reap destruction [but] whoever sows to please the Spirit... will reap eternal life" (Galations 6:8). Each of us is scattering seeds, whether we want to acknowledge it or not. And those seeds... be they ones of hope or despair, good or evil, positive or negative, prosperous or destructive, peace or strife, belief or doubt, kindness or animosity... will eventually bloom as a testament to how we chose to live our life. The feelings and memories and impressions we've left with others are what remains of what we did here. Like those poppies, whatever reminders we left behind are what others will see and think of us when they do. 

I don't think anybody at Grammy's service would've left there not wanting to become a better person. Everybody had a story of when and how she'd touched their life in some way. After all, my parents stayed with her and her late husband while their own house was being finished... my mom newly pregnant with me at the time. Her hospitality, inclusion and nonjudgemental spirit, and overall zest for life itself serves as an inspiration to those who came in contact with her through the decades. Yet, when her pastor asked her in the final weeks what she'd most like to be remembered for, all she said was, "that I was kind." 

There it was - straightforward yet true. She lived her life with the intention and hope that people would come away feeling as though they'd been treated with respect, dignity, and love. That, in a world where all things cruel and mean and destructive reign supreme, those who met her would have their heart warmed by her sincerity and kindness. And I think all who gathered to remember her that day would have agreed that she fulfilled that wish well. And I also think that the request for all of us to go sow our own seeds in the same spirit was the most fitting way to carry on her memory. After all, it serves as an accountability of sorts to the rest of us to beware what, where, and how we sow - to make certain that we are sowing correctly and for the right reasons as did Grammy. 

Even though you have likely never met or know her... and now, sadly, never will... may this little glimpse into her remarkable ninety-four year life serve as a nudge to you to scatter seeds that will last. Look for ways to speak life instead of death over those around you. Seek to bring peace instead of stir up division. Make room at the table for everybody, even those harder to understand. Love God genuinely and love your neighbor as yourself. Don't forget that a cookie always makes everything better and... oh yes, grab some poppies or plant some flowers of your choosing, bringing color and beauty to a world that needs it most.