The Serenity Prayer
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
~ Reinhold Niebuhr ~
Recently, I had occasion to strive for the wisdom spoken of in the serenity prayer.
I had been bedridden for several days.
As I was beginning to recoup,
I thought the quiet restfulness of the front room would be a nice change.
I stole downstairs to bask in the sunshine pouring through my south facing window.
I was flabbergasted by the view that assaulted my eyes.
My spirits plunged and tears stung my eyes.
My memorial garden had a few short hours ago,
been safely nestled under two feet of snow waiting for the spring.
Completely eradicated by a backhoe,
a gaping wound void of vegetation and ornamentation
replaced the result of six years labour.
I gain immense pleasure from gardening.
I love the feel and smell of dirt; blackened fingernails simply mean a good day's work.
I impatiently wait for the arrival of spring greens;
nature's children to be nurtured and cared for.
Friends and neighbours alike, know that once the decent weather returns
my days are filled with sunshine, lingering in my gardens
until the sun fades and the moon rises.
It has long been acknowledged that gardening is therapeutic.
Sheer escapism from the pressures of our hectic world.
You can't rush a garden.
Cultivating a garden is a great way to tend to one's soul.
So what was I to do when faced with the loss of my garden?
I wanted to rant and rave, to blame and berate.
I wanted a pound of flesh!
I was hurt and I was angry.
Very angry.
Too angry.
I was forced to more closely examine my anger and resentment,
as I had always believed that the very nature of a garden is about change.
Ok, so I did not make the changes. Was that it?
No.
It was much deeper than that.
I discovered two things.
One, I was still deeply mourning the loss of my mother
who had, almost a year to the day,
lost her battle with cancer.
Carefully chosen plants and ornaments had been added to the garden
in memorium and now they had vanished.
I was incensed.
How could they do that without even checking to see if anything of value was under the snow?!
How could they just tear up everything
and not notice the love and care that had gone into that part of the garden?!
How could they not see the garden?!
Under two feet of snow.
Under the snow.
I knew I was being completely irrational.
I expected the city workers to see under the snow.
No.
And that's when I discovered the second thing.
I expected the common courtesy of notification of the "trenching" that was to take place.
I wanted to be forwarned so that I would have a choice in the matter.
I wanted to know what was coming so that I could…what?
Go out and dig it all up?
In my fevered condition,
I pictured myself out there shoveling and hauling plants into the house,
trying to keep them alive for at least another month
before they could be set back out.
Maybe.
Nevertheless, a warning would have been nice.
Now I was left feeling completely incapable of changing what had already taken place.
I had been given no choice.
I could not change what had happened
and needed to find the courage to accept what had.
I needed to accept my losses and make peace with the way things were.
Moreover, a strange thing happened as I went through this thought process.
I became aware of how my mom would have looked at the whole situation.
She too would have been disappointed, maybe even as devastated as I
BUT she would have probably chuckled and said, "Need to head to the garden center Deb!"
with a knowing wink that said,
that she knew it's one of my favourite places on earth.
There was that silver lining she always talked about.
The chance to shop for precious plants all over again!
I shed a few more tears,
but they were cleansing tears now not tears of rage.
This year will be different in the memorial garden.
I do not think I'll be able to look at it quite the way I did before.
Instead of being an emotional shrine to a loved one,
it will be a place of growth.
Spiritual as well as physical.
Thanks Mom.
I love you. I miss you.
See you at the garden centre.
~ Metamorphosis ~
Life's Lessons
After a while you learn the difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul. You learn that love isn't leaning
but lending support. You begin to accept your defeats with the grace of an adult,
not the grief of a child.
You decide to build your roads on today,
for tomorrow's ground is too uncertain.
You help someone plant a garden instead of waiting
for someone to bring you flowers.You learn that God has given you
the strength to endure and that you really do
have worth.
~ Author Unknown ~
We can all do some little thing to help...why not start here.
Katherine's Story ~ Against All Odds ~
