Small Victories

A conversation today prompted my pondering as I gardened, drawing me to take my heavy thoughts out to turn over in my mind even as my hands turned over the dirt.  The conversation was like a nervous fist looking for help in unclenching, relaxing, allowing.  And my own heart is heavy, because so many people in my circle are bearing heavy burdens.  My heart aches for even a tiny moment of victory...for someone, somewhere.  I went into the garden heavy with these things, and there  I planted some onions.

Onions are bulbs, and unlike other smaller seeds they require a deeper planting.  I once heard an old wives' tale that the larger the seed, the deeper it needs to be planted.  Onions need a Hole.

As I dug those holes for planting onions, I came across a few busy earthworms--those great friends of garden soil. They aren't particularly happy with my soil.  It is full of pebbles and rocks, and they must work hard to churn a path around them.  This is a noble, admirable effort on the part of the worm, but his greater claim to fame has nothing to do with his efforts to churn the soil. In some circumstances--not every circumstance and not every worm--but in some if he is cut in two, both parts of him continue to live as separate and unique worms. 
This is an amazing thing!  A small victory, yes. But enough to count in today's reckoning.