The Fertile Farmer

I am posting this poem, and it's not mine. Kadi Prescott wrote it in hopes of reaching new moms, experienced moms, struggling moms, sharing with all that parenting isn't easy, but we all try and with His love and grace, we are able to bring them up. I think this poem is beautiful because it's so true.
Kadi has a website that she was going to sell but decided it worth more than money, and I agree. She wants to reach moms and help them, and along with some other moms out there to give insight and tender advice, etc., and I want to help support that. So, if you're reading this and feel like you may need some encouragement, or just want to also support her in this, please visit her blog! :)

Here's her poem:

The Fertile Farmer, by Kadi Prescott

There once was a farmer. Seven seeds she did sow.
She knew nothing of farming. It was “learn as you go”.
She planted them, nourished them, and hoped for the best.
But her thumb was not green, unlike all the rest.
The other farmers would snicker and stare,
Saying, “Seven seeds? She wouldn’t dare!
She’s not a great farmer and can’t handle those seeds!
Her tools are too puny to provide for their needs.”
The farmer had tools that were humble and small.
But she figured them better than nothing at all.
She used her tools to tend the seeds daily.
Even though there were times she did not do it gaily.
There were many times when she’d tend to them wrong.
Or she’d worry that one would not grow to be strong.
But she kept right on farming and tending those seeds.
She tried hard to provide for all of their needs.
She soon learned to ignore all the other rude farmers.
Whose own smug pride she refused to let harm hers.
As spring and summer were nearing an end,
All she could do was call on a friend.
“Please God,” she would pray. “I’ve done all I can.
I’ve tried to raise them according to plan.
But I’m just one farmer, and I know I’m not gifted.
So I’ll hand them over, to you they are lifted.”
For many weeks, the farmer waited
to see what would happen, her breath always baited.
The leaves are now changing. Harvest season is near.
The farmer, still trusting in her Father dear.
She loves her sprouts, but fears the unknown.
She hopes they produce the good things she’s sown.
She thinks back to a time when they were just seeds.
Times she had to deny them of things that weren’t “needs.”
Would some of her choices turn out to be wrong?
Would they still grow into plants that were fruitful and strong?
These answers are hidden from the farmer’s view.
She has to trust God to know what to do.
For He’s the real farmer of things great and small.
We depend on Him, for our harvest, come Fall.

Thanks for sharing your gift with others, Kadi! :)


Janera said...

Hi. I just found your blog while surfing. I enjoyed your posts and was particularly interested because your last name is my maiden name, and it's not all that common. So, cool.

Come visit anytime!

Janera said...

ok, now I'm really curious. Maybe we're related! I hope you'll email me and tell me who the relatives are, maybe where they live?

My mother does a lot of genealogy work, so she has traced us pretty much back to Adam and Eve. lol

It would be really cool to know.