They say that the grass isn't always greener on the other side, but we knew we were living without grass while we were in Virginia. We had a dirt plot. Very little grew and lot of what did grow were weeds. Around us we saw lovely lawns and gardens flourishing and blossoming. It makes you think that perhaps you aren't doing something right. You ask the head gardener, "hey, what do I need to add" and the answer, time after time, was "Ask me tomorrow". Being a human creation, well, that means that my patience wears thin. Where is my direction? My encouragement? Where is the relief? Whenever the smallest little plant would sprout up and start to bloom we would turn our attention towards it. At first we gave too much attention. We begged and pleaded for it to grow. Dumped fertilizer on it. Drowned it in water. Too much. Then we became jaded and we didn't want our hearts broken by another failure and so we didn't give enough attention to those tiny plants. Finally, after being told all those times, "Ask me tomorrow" we started to see a pattern. We were getting a glimpse of the head gardener's reason and plan. It wasn't our favorite idea but we saw a purpose. The next plants that sprouted up, despite our frustrations, we approached a little cautiously but with gardening tools in hand. A little fertilizer, a little more water, a little space to stretch it's leaves and petals. We turned to the head gardener to check the progress. Not as often as we should have, if truth be told. We got a little focused on these plants. It had been so long since we had seen anything growing in our little dirt plot. Still, the head gardener beckoned us back for more guidance. Reminding us that our attention alone wasn't going to make those plants grow. We needed to come back for encouragement and teaching from him. Plus, it gives us a little distance to really see the plant for what it was trying to become. It's amazing when you think one thing is growing and you turn around and find that it's taken a turn into something else entirely.
I had asked the head gardener many times why we needed to only have a barely growing plot instead of the thriving and lush gardens and yards we saw around us. More than once, he took me for a walk thru those other yards. Showed me weeds and bare patches that I couldn't see from my yard. Some yards were only growing along the fence and had barren spots in the center. I worried. What did my yard say about us? The head gardener chuckled and wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we continued on. He said that the difference was that I wanted something to grow and came to him for help. Those people were very diligent in fostering growth where others could see and never asked him for help with the rest. While they were concerned that it look beautiful from the outside, he was more concerned with the entire yard. Still, I worried.
"Child, this will all make sense in due time but you are where you are for a reason and I wouldn't have you any other place"
This didn't make me happy, exactly. I mean, I'm glad to know that I wasn't some how falling behind but to know that all that work was only ever going to amount to this? That seemed frustrating and pointless.
Still, going back to the head gardener helped my husband and I to learn how to work together, as a team. We learned so much more since our attentions, mostly, were on what he was showing us and not what we had accomplished. We learned to trust his judgement over our fears. We learned to take the gardening tools he gave us and use them as instructed. It didn't always make sense but we did it anyways.
Then, one day, the head gardener came around and said that since we had been faithful with what he had given us that he would like us to work a new plot of land. I felt unworthy now. I felt like I hadn't proven myself at all worthy of any gifts. I felt like an ungrateful child who whined and complained. Again, he chuckled at me. Reminded me that if I kept worrying that I'd miss the task ahead.
There was a task ahead? Now he had my attention. He moved us to a plot that hasn't been worked yet. It's growing stuff but we aren't sure what's in here. Some of it lush and some of it brown. It seems overwhelming but then I heard a small voice behind me, "Ask me tomorrow".
I will.
