The Venus Flytrap and Her Invisible Seeds

Recently, we went to Hobby Lobby and bought a Venus Fly Trap kit for the oldest kid. Supposedly, inside it was everything you could possibly need to grow your very own carnivorous plant from your window-sill. I don’t consider myself a complete novice in the garden, but I’ve certainly never grown one that eats other living creatures, so it’s a little (or a lot, if I’m honest) out of my expertise.

Please don’t tell her this, but I’m leery of the fact that my child can grow this tropical plant in her bathroom because she hasn’t ever grown something from seed before, and this isn’t the easiest plant to start with. It has an incredibly long germination (aka seed to sprout) period. Also, it’s a plant that EATS BUGS.

However, far more important is the fact that we aren’t sure we even planted any seeds in the little container.

Yep, you heard me correctly. We read the instructions, and did everything they said. Then when it was time to carefully pour the seeds on top of the soil to bury them, we never actually saw where they landed.

There’s a chance they went right on the dirt, but there’s an equal chance that we missed completely and they landed on the counter or the ground. We don’t know. We couldn’t see or hear them fall. THE SEEDS ARE TINY AND LOOK LIKE DIRT. Give me a break, k?

The final instructions on the box read:

Place indoors near adequate sunlight and you will see a sprout in 6 weeks-3 months.

3 months.

That’s a long time to wait for a seed that may or may not have been planted to grow into a baby plant.

We’ve decided that we are going to stare at this neon planter for [up to] three months to see if we did, in fact, plant these seeds. I know most sane people would throw the thing away at this point. Or at the very least, they would buy more seeds and add them to the pot so that they could be absolutely sure that it had seeds in it. But where’s the fun in that?

All joking aside, I think there’s probably a couple life lessons that my kids can gain from this whole thing..

If we don’t get any plants out of the ordeal, Emma will probably be sure that her seeds make it into the pot next time.

But even more important is the fact that we will all wrestle with the unknown until then . We will all sit, and hope, and wonder. We will wait, and wait some more. And those are important things to do.

When I walk into that bathroom and look up in the windowsill, I can’t help but wonder if this is the stuff that faith is made of: the unknown, and the waiting, but the wonder and the hoping, too.

 

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