B

She stands proudly in the field

Dignified, tall and green

Waiting for the harvest

For the fruit of her labors to be seen.

This stalk of corn began as a tiny seed

Slowly absorbing the rain and the sun

Pushing her head up through the dirt

With a long way to go before she is done.

Sometimes the rain disappoints

The sun beats down relentlessly

Leaving that little sprout

At the mercy of the Almighty.

She stands with no protection

Out in this open field

Vulnerable to the violent storms

Threatening her yield.

But … she is not alone

As she struggles to develop

The One who created this little seed

Will also send His help

This sturdy beanstalk plants her feet

Down deep in the fertile ground

And when it’s time for the harvest

No sweeter produce can be found.