Monthly Archives: December 2010

The Garden of You

This post
is dedicated to a precious person, Jessica who has a beautiful blog.
Reading her blog is a delight, like visiting a garden.

Dear Precious Friend, I came by your garden today for a visit. I
saw you in the distance with the wind playfully attempting to
displace the little straw hat (You know, the yellow one. With the
polka dots) sitting prettily upon your head. You seemed engrossed
in your work as you hummed gently to yourself. Knowing you, you
were probably composing a song. Then you saw me. You turned and
laughed, then waved at me to come on over for a spell. On my way
over, I noticed a little pond you had put in. There were flashes of
red, gold and white making ripples in the water as if to welcome me
here, to your garden. In another little nook I noticed that some
fairies had been busy building a little home for themselves,
knowing in their hearts that you wouldn’t mind. You looked warm and
a little tired from your work, but happy. There may have been a
little stick or two in your hair, it was hard to tell amongst that
deep brown hair. Little clods of dirt had stuck themselves to your
legs. Honestly, the dried mud didn’t look very comfortable, causing
your skin to wrinkle and pucker. However, you barely seemed to
noticed the dirt clods because you knew they would meet with their
ultimate demise; to be washed away. You squatted down by some
recently disturbed earth. I noticed a multitude of hardworking
earthworms busily making their way back into the soft, moist earth.
Those little guys are a definite sign of good soil. They are always
working to soften the hard ground, just below the surface where you
can’t see them. You asked me to come closer and take a look at what
you had been doing. You explained to me that this little plot of
land had almost been swept away by a flood recently. But, you had
managed to keep it safe. You said your gardening teacher had been
by and helped you protect this area from the swift, unforgiving
waters. You told me he had said that this was a special little
place, destined for greatness and beauty. “And see,” you said,
“I’ve already planted the seeds.” Having come to visit your garden
a few times recently, I feel I understand that making this place
special has not been easy. Blights seem to pop up out of nowhere
ravaging your precious plants. Or, crazy weather comes screaming
into this place bringing darkness and flooding that attempts to
desecrate and destroy the life here. By no small miracle, every
little petal, blade of grass, and leaf survives, and, in spite of
the storms, thrives. Whenever I come to visit, you take me on a
tour of delights. The sweet, soft scent of those perky red roses
reach up and tickle my nose, daring me to smile. The gentle sway of
the weeping willow by the water allows me, for a moment, to safely
feel some sadness, which is a balm to my soul. Sometimes the little
rabbits come out to peek at us and twitch their noses as if they
know something we do not. We stopped at your new pond. You showed
me the little fish that you put there. “My friends” you said, with a slight tilt to your head.
They come to visit when you arrive, even when you have nothing to
give. Sometimes you sing them a song, sad or otherwise. Sometimes
you tell them a story. They absorb every morsel you give them then
radiate back love to you for your gentle gifts. Eventually, we
arrive at the heart of your garden, that most sacred place. Here is
where you sit, hours upon hours, with your gardening teacher.
Listening, learning, asking tons of questions. Sometimes, I come in
to visit, sometimes I don’t. And, that’s ok. Because that is your
special place. On the way out, we always pass the little patch of
earth that you intentionally leave untended. It serves as a
reminder of what this garden used to look like. You have
worked so hard ,my friend, to put your land back together. And it is
amazing. Even more amazing than before the hurricane that nearly
wiped this place of rest and beauty from existence. Thank you,
Precious Friend, for allowing me to visit your garden from time to
time. Stephanie

Thoughts and Feelings

The children used to run rampant through out the grand, old
mansion that they call home. Wild and free they would pursue
whatever looked good to them at the moment. Furniture was
repeatedly knocked over, glass broken, drapes climbed, flower beds
ruined. The Caregiver was beside herself trying to reign the
chaos in. There were so many of them. Often she would
find them with lying on the floor with manic looks of glee on their
face, totally spent from what they considered grand and glorious
adventures. Or, they would refuse to go to bed and find new
ways to bring terror to the Caregivers heart. She knew
something needed to be done, but had not a clue as to what to do
with these unruly children. Sometimes she wished that they
would just grow up and go away forever. But, not really.
She loved them all dearly. After one particularly exhausting
day, the Caregiver decided to call a Friend. She was
desperate, she told him, and really needed his help. In the
blink of an eye, the Friend was at the door of the mansion.
He took the poor, bedraggled Caregiver into her room and
asked her what was the matter. The Caregiver poured out
her heart to her Friend. Tears flowed freely as she went over
how the children behaved and how she was worn out trying to keep
track of them day after day. She was concerned that they
would hurt themselves, or ruin the mansion making it uninhabitable,
and then what would she do? With an expression that radiated
Love, the Friend gently explained that she needed help from the
only person that could make these children behave, their Father.
The Friend said he would give the Father a call. No sooner
had the Friend called the Father than he appeared in the foyer.
He took one look at the place and called out one word,
“Children!”. The constant noise of chaos and destruction
suddenly ceased and all was eerily quiet. Then with a rush
all of the children from every corner of the property came rushing
in to the foyer. Oh, what a mess they were. Some were
covered from head-to-toe in dirt with sticks and leaves in their
hair. Some had been in the kitchen and were covered in flour
and other foodstuffs. A few looked quiet and sullen, or
afraid, these children had barely budged from their rooms.
The Father took one look at his children and very quietly
said, “Come with me.” One-by-one he took them into their
rooms, talked with them, salved their wounds, gave them a bath, and
fed them. Then he put them all to bed. It had been a
long time since all of the children had slept soundly through the
night, but the Father’s presence calmed and soothed them into a
peaceful slumber. The Father then came to the Caregiver. He
could see in her eyes the years of weariness and desperation.
So, he drew her a nice hot bath, brought her a nice supper,
and gently helped her into bed. The Friend kept watch all
night long as everyone slept. The next morning, everyone gathered
together in the kitchen. As breakfast was made the Father,
with a stern, but gentle expression, explained that things would be
different from now on. The children had been neglecting their
duties for too long, and their behavior was unacceptable.
Starting today, the house would be cleaned and put back in
order. No more running rampant. No more destruction.
No more gleeful chaos. This day, their Father
explained, was the beginning of a new way of life.
After a hearty breakfast, the children set off to do their
work. The Caregiver was surprised to find that some of the
wilder children actually looked relieved. Apparently, all
that they needed was their Father. At the end of the day, the
children looked exhausted, but happy. They had their supper
and went straight to bed to prepare for another day’s work the next
day. The children began to fall into a peaceful pattern of
work, and when the work of restoring of the mansion had slowed
down, play. Nowadays, the children gather in the parlor after
supper. Some sit and snooze by the fire, some read a good
book, other’s chat about the day’s events and how they felt about
them. The Father had taught the Caregiver how to manage so
many children at once. They all had their special needs and
their special jobs. Now the Caregiver, is able to fully use
her gifts to coordinate the efforts of the children to maintain
their home. She even joins in their play every once in a
while.

Do your
feelings run rampant like unruly
children?