After reading this short story with my 7-year-old, a simple kindergarten book report homework inspired thoughts that eventually found their way onto this page. I hope you discover in its simple wording, more than I did.
The Story
A little boy planted a carrot seed
His mother said, “I’m afraid it won’t come up.”
His father said, “I’m afraid it won’t come up.”
And his big brother said, “It won’t come up.”
Every day the little boy pulled out the weeds around the seed and sprinkled the ground with water.
But nothing came up.
And nothing came up.
Everyone kept saying it wouldn’t come up.
But he still pulled out the weeds around it every day and sprinkled the ground with water.
And then one day, a carrot came up
Just as the little boy had known it would.
Much has been said about determination and consistency but in the last two pages of this simple story, I stumbled on a different perspective on knowledge, prescience, and conviction. To frame my thoughts, I will share three other stories — stories of real people I interacted with, and whose lives have lit mine like one candle to another.
Knowledge
The first story on knowledge is that of a business leader I was privileged to interview.
Back in the early 2000s, he was a business analyst working with a financial services company. On the side, he loved to analyze company performance at a time when business analysis hadn’t grown to become the industry it is today. One day, while at his desk, he stumbled on some information on a company that was hidden in plain sight in their annual report. The company was grossly undervalued but no one seemed to be looking at it that closely. He escalated his findings to his superiors and they validated his deductions. And with that information, they mopped up the company’s shares and waited.
I recall his face lighting up at this point in the story.
“In 8 months, we sold the shares for almost 10 times what it cost us to buy it. That sale turned our lives around. To date, I wonder why no one else saw it.”
Prescience
The second story on prescience is that of a woman I once sat with and listened to for over 4 hours. She was about my grandmother’s age — far gone in age, but not an edge duller. She was telling me of her deceased husband of over 30 years.
“I love that man,” she says. “I still see him and we still talk. God led me to that man.”
Her story is unbelievable. To date, I can’t say whether it is the recollection of a frayed mind lost in a world of its own construct or the life that exists on the edge of our comprehension that defies the neat logic that faith eschews. According to her and her children who confirmed the story, she saw the man in a dream and knew his name before ever meeting him. On the day she met him, he confirmed that he’d seen her too. They didn’t date for up to a year before getting married. He died some decades later, both of them in their 50s, and till she passed at a little over 80, she still spoke with him every day.
Conviction
The third story on conviction is that of a mentor — wealthy in mind and stature who rose from humble beginnings to the heights of grace. In the 90s, as a 20-something-year-old he’d bought large tracts of land in an obscure village that didn’t appear on the Lagos map at the time. He’d managed to acquire these landholdings by pooling his savings and the investments he got from his colleagues and superiors. 20 years later, the world caught up with him. By this time his village of dirt had turned into a gold mine. Apropos of this story was why he took that position at a time when few people were looking in that direction.
“I’m lucky,” he often says; but of his vision, he remains insistent that he knew what direction Lagos would grow simply by looking at a map on a wall.
“If you listen long enough,” he often admonishes “You will hear it.”
What Do You Hear?
Much has been said of these things and hindsight is easy but in my life journey through increasingly flatter earth, I appreciate the power of knowledge even more. From Google Maps that tell us traffic situations that help us plan our routes; to statistics that help us predict the future; to mystics that help us to trace our lives in the stars; to mentors that have walked further along the road our feet have embraced, knowing the future gives us some assurance in an uncertain world. One to which we are anchored when the carrot seed does not germinate despite our best efforts; or when even those closest to us do not understand our innermost convictions.
I have often wondered about faith and conviction. Are they merely our thoughts seeking validation or the voice of our soul seeking harmony? Is the future a place we can only describe from the lens of the past or a destination to which our conviction will eventually take us?
I can relate to doubt that blooms in the day and lingers into the dread of the night while we weed and water but nothing shows. That creeping doubt that contends with everything we know and everything we think we know; that creeping doubt that is watered by the words and the advice of others who do not see the things that we see; that creeping doubt that awakens past failures from the crypt to haunt us and reminds us that we are not infallible. The many what-ifs that threaten to pull down our greatest resolves.
Contrarily, I know these too — like where my path leads in this journey of actualization. I know that I will be celebrated for these stories, and I know the love that lights up my soul. I know the voice of my passion. I know where the wind blows.
Whether tomorrow will find me waiting, I can’t tell.
Still, every day, I am reminded by death and thoughts of it to weed and water just like the little boy and listen to my heart. With each drop that falls and each drink this thirsty earth takes from my giving hand, every day brings me closer to that moment in the past when I knew my carrot seed would grow.
Pray tell.
What is your seed? What do you know? And where does your path lead?
Osundolire Ifelanwa