Plight of the Cottonwood Seed, Part 1 of 3

Written By Gerri Wilson and Vicki Freligh


Vicki and I walked the old railroad trail which meanders like an echo through the historic Silver Valley of Northern Idaho. Now paved for walkers, joggers and bikers, the rugged blacktop path, which pierces the lush, green forest was almost invisible. Cottonwood seeds must have been falling like snow throughout the night before. Fluffs of white cotton piled up in drifts beneath our feet and I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer number of individual seeds. “Look how MANY there are that never become a tree!” I thought.


While Gerri worked at the bookstore, I had spent much of the day pondering an idea that had been coming to me over the past few months: Combine prayer ministry/counseling with prophetic drawing! But what would this look like? How could it work?! Something was being birthed in me…but it was still fuzzy. 

As I sat in the hot-tub across from Gerri that evening, I imagined myself working with her. She would be drawing “something” while I led the prayer-ministry sessions. Suddenly I noticed cottonwood seeds filling the air around us.

I began to focus on one of the tiny puffballs above me. Down it floated, then up it swirled! It seemed to be so happy to be on it’s journey dancing among the treetops. While caught in the joy this little seed might be feeling, I heard an old song in my head…..”One Moment in Time, we have… moment in time”!

My furry friend was now on the journey it had been destined to take ever since it’s little life began! I was really into witnessing this ride when all of a sudden a gust of wind sent this little puffball on a nosedive! There it lay on top of the churning water in front of me. I felt such grief as I tried to rescue the drowning ball of cotton. Now it would never become a cottonwood tree! Soaking in sorrow over such an abrupt loss, the revelation hit me. “It’s not about the destination…it’s about the journey!”


Vicki’s words tore the silence of my bubbly twilight vigil. As she related to me the plight of her happy cottonwood seed, my mind returned to the fragile white drifts on the trail that morning. “God isn’t angry with that little seed for landing on the water! In fact, it had no control over it’s final resting place! What are You saying here, Lord?”

To be continued in Part 2...

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