A fluffy cotton seed floated right through the gap of my open window. Gently, I caught it in my hand. It is a beautiful little delicate thing. The thousands of short, fine fibres glimmer in the sun of a silvery white - the clouds often glimmer its lining as they pass by on a bright sunny day. These fibres are haphazardly attached to another fibre into a small clump of fluff around the size of golf ball. In its centre, its prize, is a small, black seed. A cotton seed, with fibres connected to it in all directions. The seed is no bigger than half a whole black pepper seed. Yet, it is lovingly protected with space and interlinked connections so it may find its place to be its own tree. The protection - the white fibres - are not uniform. Some are tightly knit, some are not. But they are united in their role to protect the seed.
I wonder if the seed is Jesus - the cornerstone of the church. Then we - the delicately interwoven white fibres that help the seed achieve its purpose?