We’ve all seen them. You know, the lone cornstalk growing in the middle of a soybean field … the tree stretching out from a wall of rock … the weed that miraculously appears in the only crack in the asphalt.
I found one of those aberrations along a busy state highway earlier this year. A lone cornstalk sprouted inches from the road bed. And I’ve watched it all summer. It just continues to grow, maybe not as tall as corstalks in a cornfield, but a respectable five feet or so. As of this morning, it had three well-formed ears with flowing silks and tassels blowing in the September breeze.
This particular cornstalk piqued my interest for a number of reasons. Obviously, just watching it grow by itself next to a state highway was impressive. And to actually see it grow was another marvel. It’s amazing no one either intentionally or unintentionally has cut it down. Even the mowers have spared this lone stalk.
There had to be a life lesson in this, I thought. Maybe independence. Maybe Providence. Maybe a little bit of both.
To be sure, the science of its existence can’t be questioned. We’re an agricultural area and I’m sure a kernel or two fell along the wayside during transport last year. The kernel germinated, rooted, sprouted and let nature do its thing.
We have a lot of cornfields in our area. However, this little guy was nowhere in eyesight of another stalk of corn.
I had thought visions of writing about the little cornstalk that could. Independence. Perseverance. Defying odds.
But I morphed into divine protection. You know, the lilies of the field … not one of the sparrows shall fall without the knowledge of the Father … the lone cornstalk.
I think that’s the message I take out of this summer’s journey. Each time I pass that little cornstalk, I know I, too, am under divine protection.
THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Frequently you have to go way out on a limb if you want the finest fruit.