, , ,

What kind of dirt am I?. I long to be soil which produces a crop of good fruit of a hundred, sixty or eve thirty fold. But I feel ilke dirt—simply put, today I feel like dirt—there is no root-able place in me for a harvest fest.

Is that a sin or What? Yes, it is! How can I who seeks to know, to believe and produce call my self dirt. A desert, sand, dry, parched. Tilled and toiled to produce fruit but in confusion and near unbelief and a lack of understanding I remain dirt.

Dirt is earth, nothing if not ready. It’s earth to be prepared bring forth something, a crop—a crop of what I wonder. There it is, me, earth, dirt, before soil, what am I to do to bring forth fruit and what fruit do I bring the table?

His parables were/are for the masses. The truth he spoke/speaks are for and to those in the inner circle/the kingdom. Am I in or out, or both depending on the rest I got last night or the lack of it, or the bed, or the coffee, or the tide or the moon phase……what tripe and drivel do the devil deliver wasted moments of selfish conceited self-importance. I think my crop at this moment is a parcel and peck of pride.

Forgive me!

Cultivate the dirt to soil. Give grace to yourself and allow the seed to be planted, trust in all conditions, all conditions, that the conditions are perfect and just what you and HE need will grow.