Soil Bursting 

So the plant died the first time I tried it. That’s the last time I tried it too. I thought maybe it was the seed I had picked up off the ground. I don’t know but it didn’t work. I thought I would be good at watering it, but in reality I shouldn’t blame the seed, it was my neglect. I was honest to my idea but I didn’t stick to it. I wanted to plant a tree and watch it grow. I made a commitment to water it each time I read my scriptures. It would prove as a symbol of my conversion to the gospel. It ended up proving I was just as immersed as the seed was dry. I let the seed die. My commitment died with it.

 

I remember more color, now I can’t see a thing. It’s dark, cold. I remember so much more light. Where did I go? I struggled and squirmed. I believe in light even when feeling it not. 

 

“Welcome to Seminary you Celestial people,” Brother Pratt said, beaming as he hoped around in front of the class. As a Senior in high school I hesitated liking him, but his smile was so tender it grew into my heart. His eyes were soil-deep, as if tears were around the corner, tears of fruitful joy. He invoked a certain flowering confidence in my heart. What was it? How is he so happy? I thought to myself. I struggle with depression and rainclouds. I wish I could be happier. I wish the sun would shine.

 

I sensed warmth. So turned around before I wasn’t sure there was a right direction. But I could feel it now, just above me, or what I thought was up. I still couldn’t tell, which way was up. I know which way is warm. I longed for that direction. I kept struggling to get back to color and light.

 

I’ll do it I thought as I raised my hand in hope 

“Great,” said Brother Pratt to the class.

I had just joined the ‘Wimpy Verse Club.’

 

I got home and ate a snack and some water, feeling a little wilted and dry, I can’t run on empty. Crusty, dull homework and a couple hours of video games later in the dark, basement living room I went to get ready for bed. My basement room was cold so I quickly got in bed and closed my eyes. 

Oh.

I remembered. 

I shuddered as I got out of bed, grabbed my Book of Mormon and read a wimpy verse or two, closed the book and went to bed. 

 

Still no light. This soil is so cruel.

 

After school and during basement video-gaming I thought about what Brother Pratt said, “If you can’t read a chapter then read a verse, but being a part of the wimpy verse club means you have to read at least one verse, more if you can, but at least one verse every day.”

I went to bed a little earlier.

That night I read a chapter and time passed as each night I sat at my little school desk studying The Book of Mormon in my basement room.

 

Alone, and no one to help. I began to cry... terribly. I miss the flowering color from whence I came. I miss the warm light. I miss being alive... I’m not staying here, there has to be way back. 

 

I began to read with greater intensity as the days went by. I became less and less wimpy in my readings. I read whole chapters for whole weeks. I began to pray asking God if he would help me, please ... help me.

 

I’m so close. I can’t force it, but I want it so bad. The prison is loosening. I can smell the fresh air drafting through the darkness. What hope I sense, what anxiety I have. Patience.

 

Alma Chapter 5, I read to myself before bed one night. As usual I was at my little school desk in my little basement room, reading more than a little of the Book of Mormon before bed. I had felt so much better over the past months, an improvement almost. I had been more sincere in my prayers. It effected my reading and even my expressions. I felt ...hope. 

I read verse 45:

“And this is not all. Do ye not suppose that I know of these things myself? Behold, I testify unto you that I do know that these things whereof I have spoken are true. And how do ye suppose that I know of their surety? 

Behold, I say unto you they are made known unto me by the ...”

 

The soil burst and I felt ...Light!

 

I felt it so softly, it pierced my soul and my heart leaped with tears. I cried with fruitful, joyful tears. I wanted to sing, dance, rejoice. What glory I felt. What light and warmth and love did fill my heart to the brim and overflowing. It was so good, so ... personal. 

How could I mistake it?

I knew it I knew it as much as Alma did. I finished reading.

“Behold, I say unto you they are made known unto me by the Holy Spirit of God. Behold, I have fasted and prayed many days that I might know these things of myself. And now I do know of myself that they are true; for the Lord God hath made them manifest unto me by his Holy Spirit; and this is the spirit of revelation which is in me.”

 

I recognized the Sun. So warm, so real, how I missed the Sun.

 

I recognized the Son. So warm, so real. I know He lives. I’ve felt his love,now I know He lives.

 

And, so I found what I could not do before could be done at last. I never grew that silly tree. I think the pot the seed was in was eventually thrown away by someone. But that didn’t matter. That doesn’t matter. I had the beginnings of a tree inside me. My seed had burst it’s soil. Looking back that seemingly miserable soil was warm. It was wet, and it was exactly what I needed to grow. Now I stand above the soil, and even anchored by it. Now I am fastened to the Light. It changed my life before it even began. I know He lives, and That has changed my life forever. 

 

Zach Power and the Seed.