Like A Begonia

My sister is the gardener, not me. Whether planting a pot, planter, raised bed, or perimeter border, she has a vision to cultivate a beautiful space and create a sanctuary where living things can flourish together.

Not long ago she found a begonia at The Home Depot. It was in a small pot, priced to sell, and clearly on its way out. That sad little begonia in the small plastic pot filled with dried out and depleted soil was probably doomed for the dumpster, had someone, like say, my sister, not spotted it and taken it home.

She planted it in a large pot that sits by the back door, along with a variegated fuchsia, a fern, and some coleus. It had room to grow, good soil, fresh air, sunlight, water, the company of other plants, and a gardener determined to help it thrive. And it did.

The world right now feels much like that last chance rack at The Home Depot. If you are anything like me, it often feels like the pot in which I am planted is too small, the soil dried out and depleted. Looking around, in many ways, it is a sad state of affairs.

And yet.

I can’t help but believe that we are a lot like that little begonia. Individually and collectively we are meant to thrive.

We are the plant, and, we are the gardener.

It starts with our own garden and grows out from there.

Let’s be gardeners determined to help one another thrive.

Treading Water

Most days I feel like I am just treading water. Not getting anywhere. Barely keeping my head above water.

My self-talk tells me I should be doing more. Making progress, getting more accomplished, having a clear sense of purpose and direction. Not simply keeping myself from going under.

In the midst of one of those water treading days recently, I suddenly remembered my time as a Sea Sprite—a member of my college synchronized swim team. We Sea Sprites spent a lot of time treading water. In fact, we couldn’t get on to practicing our routines until we had completed our necessary water treading time. It was the essential skill needed to successfully perform together. It was hard and tiring work, but without the ability to tread water for a sustained period of time, we couldn’t perform our routines skillfully and with grace, strength, and in partnership with one another. It was only through the consistent practice of treading water that we developed the physical strength and endurance necessary to perform at our best. It required determination, grit, and a commitment to our shared success to keep treading water, when all we wanted to do was climb out of the pool and collapse on the deck. But the pool was where the magic happened.

Haven’t we all been treading water?

Given the treacherous waters of the year(s) we’ve just endured, it’s a miracle that we haven’t gone under. Rather than seeing treading water as simply coping, maybe we can begin to embrace it as the essential skill that it is. The one that enables us to live with grace, strength and in partnership with one another.

What is keeping us afloat? Treading water. What will continue to keep us afloat? Treading water. The willingness to stay where we are when all we want to do is climb out of the pool and collapse on the deck.

Take it from a former Sea Sprite.

The pool is where the magic happens.

Damn Straight

There is an important project underway at our home. A dog run for Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle. It has been on the to-do list for awhile now, but suddenly there is a critical reason for it to be done NOW. She is over 8 months old and could be going into heat for the first time any day now. This weekend a male dog will be joining us when our family gathers for the rodeo, and this handsome Brittany Spaniel is still fully capable of siring a litter. Now I’m sure he and lovely Gracie would make beautiful babies together, but (a) she is too young, and (b) we are too old, or at least wise enough to know better than to take on a litter of puppies. Thus, the construction of Gracie’s Space is in full swing.

It has taken Tom two days to align the fence posts perfectly. It’s been a slow process of measuring, adjusting, cutting, re-measuring, re-adjusting, re-cutting, re-re-measuring, re-re-adjusting, and re-re-cutting, until, as Tom proudly muttered today from beneath his cowboy hat covered sweaty brow, If you find f#%*ing straighter posts anywhere, you let me know.

And those suckers are straight, no doubt about it. With the temperatures soaring and the deadline for the weekend looming, it would have been easy for him to cut corners and do with straight that was good enough. But for this pen to embody that magical combination of form and function, straight posts are the corner stone on which it all hinges.

There are times to cut corners. Situations where good enough is well, good enough. Not every project or task is worth the effort. But some are.

Is Gracie worth the extra effort to do it right you might ask?

You’re damn straight she is!

Hitting The Reset Button

“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

~ George Elliot

After a year of slow recovery and rehabbing from an injury, and taking my eye off the nutrition ball a little too much, it is time to reclaim the good habits that I’ve come to know support the kind of health, wellness, energy, and body I need for the life I want to live.

Today I hit the reset button.

Today I started the Whole30.

According to the founders, it is a “short-term nutrition reset, designed to help you put an end to unhealthy cravings and habits, restore a healthy metabolism, heal your digestive tract, and balance your immune system.”

In a nutshell, it means eliminating sugar of any kind, alcohol, grains, legumes, dairy, and all additives. I can, however, have coffee, which is the only thing that makes it possible. It may not work for everyone, and I’m not advocating it for anyone else, but it works for me.

Hitting the reset button is always an option, and not just for our health, but for our finances, marriages, friendships, family, education, work, mental, emotional, and spiritual health, not to mention our closets and garages.

If we’re honest with ourselves, we know when we’ve gotten off track, become immobilized, or have lost our way, and the sooner we hit the reset button, the sooner we can get on with living the life we want. The one we are called to live. The one that is authentic and wholehearted. The one that connects how we live with who we are at our core.

It’s never too late to hit the reset button.

Captivated

Several months ago I made the commitment to a daily writing practice, and there are times when sitting down and trying to put words together well is the last thing I want to do.

I feel captive to the process.

Thankfully, more days than not, it is also one of my saving graces.

Faithfulness to a practice can be its own reward, reminding us of our determination, persistence, passion, and discipline. There are also, I’ve discovered, unexpected blessings to be found in staying true to our chosen course. One of the most surprising for me has been an expanded awareness of the present moment. Every day, images of extraordinary beauty in the midst of the ordinary, and creative expression in the middle of everyday circumstances catch my eye.

Rather than feeling captive to the daily practice, I find myself captivated by daily life.

Morning walk. Radnor Lake, Nashville TN

A trail for slow wanderings. 

A miniature display of equine grandeur...in a nail salon. 

Stairway to heaven (Bell tower stairs, Viborg Cathedral)

The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

When I was a freshman in college, my parents flew me home for my birthday in October. They had rented a wonderful cabin for the weekend in Central Oregon, and in front of the fire, over a glass of wine, they couldn’t wait to hear all about my fall semester adventures.

At which point I burst into tears.

I told them how miserable I was, and how much I hated it. I was lonely, lost, and wanted to come home. Now.

After a long moment, my dad quietly said, “Tell you what. If at the end of spring semester you still feel this way, you can come home. Stick it out until then.”

Endurance.

He was asking me to endure what felt like an impossible situation. Not forever. Just until the end of the school year. I didn’t like the idea, but I did it. Probably no surprise, but by the end of the year you couldn’t have pried me away from school with a crowbar.

Endurance is a quality that can only be cultivated by enduring. By sticking with it when the going gets tough, we develop staying power. Continuing to grind our way through, we hit the pay dirt of inner grit. By tolerating the discomfort, we become tenacious.

My dad didn’t give me an out, he gave me a light at the end of the tunnel. And the only way to get there was on my own two feet. Finding my way through that long-ago tunnel of endurance then, has served to remind me that I can do so again.

When we find ourselves in another tunnel, in the midst of what feels like an impossible situation, it’s time to find a light, no matter how dim or distant, and with dogged determination, make our way there.