Plant a seed today, it may bear fruit tomorrow.

Recently I attended my daughter’s season-ending cross country banquet. Libby is a senior captain, and so was one of four girls who gave a speech in front of the crowd of about 150-odd athletes, parents, and coaches.

I was blown away when hers began, because, very unexpectedly, my words were coming out of her mouth.

My daughter is a terrific student, ranked no. 3 in her class, and a talented runner. But she’s also a teenager. That means, we often get nothing from her. One-word answers, or silence.

(Typical conversation over dinner: “How was the sleepover at Lia’s last night?”

“Good.”

“Wow, coach must have been happy with the way you guys ran today!”

“Yup.”

And so on).

Of course, we love her just the same. And, she’s far from a robot. I’m generalizing here; sometimes she’s conversational, even chatty. But that’s not the norm. She’s a default teen, as she should be, at 17. She’s also had her share of struggles, but that’s for another day.

Then came her cross country speech.

A year ago I was inspired to write Libby a poem, the day after her team won a hard-fought Cape Ann League championship in the mud and rain. When the results were announced they were overjoyed, and embraced, a group of girls grown into a tight circle, bonds forged through the fire of competition and tough practices.

But I also knew it would not last. It was already becoming a memory as they got their medals on the podium and boarded the bus for home.

That scene of the girls in a circle in the rain inspired me to go home and write a poem, “Running Against Time.” I printed it out with a picture of Libby and a teammate and left it on her desk.

In typical Libby fashion she did not make a big production out of it. I think she sent me a text with a couple of hearts. She did hang it on her wall, so that was a win.

Fast forward a year. I had almost forgotten about the poem until the banquet when she began her speech with those same words I had written a year ago.

It was an incredible moment. To see her so articulate. To appreciate something I had left for her.

To think that I had made an impact, very unexpectedly.

If you want to read “Running Against Time” click the image above. I’m OK sharing it since she did, so beautifully, for a crowd. It was part of a broader speech about the amazing memories she made in cross country, the people who impacted her, and fun memories.

I loved her words of wisdom to the freshmen and sophomores not to take it for granted. Because her race was now run.

So, plant a seed.

Do it without expectation. Many of your seeds/deeds will wither, or remain dormant. But some will flower. And surprise you.

Libby, blue dress/center, and the rest of the Pentucket XC captains. Great kids.