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I have been spending a lot of time in my garden lately. Somehow my hands dug deep in earth keep me present. Clearing space, nourishing soil and watching things grow are forward thinking. In a time when everything feels unsure I am glad for my garden. For so long I have been so busy that I could not pull the weeds and watch the Vinca fill in or give the Lilies room to breathe. I did not tend the grass beyond trimming the crabgrass into something that stood in for a lawn, albeit a small one. Now I plan my week based around my garden. I look ahead for rainy days and plant hearty things beforehand. I relish the early morning after a rain to get out and listen to birds and pull weeds easily out of soil. I dig holes on those days for bushes that will fill the natural creek wall I am building. I do this and remind myself to be grateful for this small piece of earth that I call home.
There are days, cause there is time, that I wonder how I got here. How did I land in a tiny hollow with horrible reception in upstate NY. Was I that overwhelmed by my life that I had to find a place to hide away and think? A place to hide away and heal? The answer is yes, I was. I raised 3 children on my own and held a fast paced job and defined myself by those things. I created mission statements for myself on the type of children I would raise. I checked in and made sure that even though you can not be perfect we were at least on the right path. At any and every rough turn in my workplace I would think, “that’s ok, I will show them, I will delver something remarkable.” I had a son with disabilities and wanted to forge a path for him, a way for him to be successful in a world that was often scary. My “ex family” seemed to take pride in punishing me for leaving an impossible situation all those years earlier. I felt a lot like the rubber duck in a shooting gallery at a carnival. But I did it all….. and with the first sign of daylight, I think I surprised even myself, and ran. I ran without a plan, and landed here, in an abandon cottage in the woods down a totally janky lane in the Hudson Vally, a literal country away from where I called home.
It is here that we are sheltering, riding the storm out so to speak. It is here without the need of any plan or project or mission statement that I find myself with time to finally do what I came here for and that is to forgive. Mostly me, forgive me, for doing what it took, or sometimes being selfish, or just plane wrong. Forgive others for the pain they caused, often because I was too busy to truly see them. Ultimately I have come to understand that grace is not a simple thing. You understand its power best if you have been through a fire. I have always wanted to be a graceful person and honestly only now understand what that may even mean. I only now understand that you can not be graceful if you don’t speak up. Grace requires we live outside ourselves, our ego, accept and here is the kicker, when you don’t.
If I could erase the pain, fear, death, or loss of income I would have to secretly admit I love this time. I think when we all set down our personal mission statements it is a wonder to see the humanity we take time to bravely share with one another. I see our civilization as a clear night sky shining in spite of ourselves because it is not about ourselves.
A friend texted the other day that I have been unusually quiet. I just have my hands deep in promise driven soil, marveling at the natural world and how we now have a once in a century opportunity to heal our hearts, right where we are.
Stay Home……….