Contributed by Elizabeth Elder
This is the parable of the poppy seed. Not to be compared with the parable of the mustard seed. This seed is not as small, nor as mighty. But, it too, teaches a fine lesson.
Two weeks ago, at the end of our church service, an elderly friend of ours meandered from the second to the last row of the building all the way to the front section of the building to “catch” us before my husband and I left the sanctuary. He wanted to let me know that he had many poppies in his yard that were dried up, and he thought I might want to swing by and collect the seeds.
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Hmmm, poppy seeds… why would he think that I would be a collector of poppy seeds? Do I look like I gardener? Shoot, should I tell him that I can’t even keep a cactus alive? The only flowers that survive my hands are the plastic variety.
I kindly thanked him and gave him a hug. And then tried to forget about why I could possibly need poppy seeds in my life.
This gentleman lives along the road to our house. We pass by his home 2-4 or even 6 times a day. I found that I couldn’t swerve past his home without feeling the pang of guilt for not stopping to collect poppy seeds that I would end up, possibly, planting at some point in my life, for the poppies to only end up at flower hospice due to my lack of care.
The guilt of not collecting the seeds took over, and I reluctantly pulled into his driveway one evening on my way home. I knocked on the door and waited for an answer. He jollily pulled the door open and practically skipped around the property showing me where all the poppies were hiding. I still couldn’t quite understand his excitement with these seeds. We chatted and collected a large sized Ziploc bag of poppy bulbs over the next hour of our lives.
As I opened the car door to depart, my friend “out of the blue” began to tell me about how his wife of 54 years used to collect the poppy seeds and make the most delicious bread. And about how much he misses her. And how happy they were, even through tough times, like losing a son and a newborn baby girl. And how his wife used to quilt. And garden. But mostly, today, he remembered the poppy seed bread that she used to make.
At that moment, I understood why I needed those darn poppy seeds!
It took me about a week to make that bread. I read dozens of reviews on dozens of recipes online, searching for just the perfect bread that would match my friend’s description. Those poppy seeds sitting on the counter had a purpose, and I couldn’t wait to get the chance to put them in some batter.
As the week came to an end, it was time to test the recipe. I was so looking forward to bringing that plate of bread to our friend.
My husband and I dropped by on a Saturday morning and went through the ritual of knock… and wait…
Our friend came to the door and was not feeling well. But when he saw that poppyseed cake with a thin crust of glaze on top, his smile was radiant.
Four days later, I received a call from our friend as my daughters and I were driving home, at the end of a horrible day. Horrible days are a rarity, but this one was a truly horrible day. Our friend began telling his story of how he thought of his wife as he ate that bread. And, again, he told me of many of his fond memories of his wife and their 54 years together.
He said he had just swung by our house to return our plate and that he had made a special brisket for us because he was taught you don’t return a plate empty. Hallelujah!
Our horrible day wasn’t so horrible any more.
His phone call brought such happiness to me. His brisket brought happiness to the whole family (and was perfect timing as we would have been making pizza out of tortillas that night if it weren’t for that brisket). The rest of the night was a good memory that I will always have. For the rest of my life, I will think of my friend whenever I hear the word brisket. Just like he thinks of his wife when the poppy bulbs have dried up and the seeds are ready.
Poppy seeds and brisket aren’t typical popular items that spawn happiness. But these two items now have me questioning why we don’t spend more time discovering what our neighbor’s “poppy seed” happiness is, what our colleague’s “poppy seed” happiness is, or maybe even a long-time friend’s “poppy seed.”
We hurry through our lives to get to the next day. We spend our hours talking or thinking so much about what we are going to do, or what we have done, that we miss the opportunity to “do” right now. The poppy seed can only be harvested for a short period of time and then the wind takes it away. I nearly missed this opportunity by being lost in the woods instead of harvesting the field.
I find myself typing this story with the thought of, “What crops are right in front of my face with their harvest ready?’ and “How can I make the most of the crops I have been given to harvest?”
What fields will you harvest today?
As for me, I saved a teaspoon of those poppy seeds. Next spring I’ll say a prayer as I plant them along our property, that they will grow and flourish and always be a reminder of my friend and his story.
