LESSONS IN THE GARDEN 9

FALL BLESSINGS

It had been two weeks of unexpected complications, nothing life-threatening but definitely life-challenging; that kind of experience that leaves you tired, a little off center and maybe even a little depressed.

I had awakened to that perfect fall day-cool, crisp and sunny with a bright, almost sapphire sky.  And best of all-an energy I could not explain. For the first time in two weeks, I felt good.


With my dog perched in his usual gardening position-on a long leash in the front yard, I began mowing, happy to be doing something physical.  Something useful.  Something I enjoyed.


A neighbor stopped her car across the street, got out and asked me if her son could mow my yard for free.  She quickly explained he needed to do twelve hours of community service and could he please mow my yard to help him get started.  My limited experience with kids and "community service" involved church youth groups, National Honor Society and traffic tickets. I asked if he was in  NHS and she said, "No he's been in trouble."  Of course by now I'd lost precious garden time, agreed to let a "troubled teen" mow my yard and who knew what kind of trouble he was going to bring me.  Ugh. 


"Terri",  my newly acquainted neighbor quickly came back, got out and thanked me profusely for allowing her son to help me.  The passenger door opened and out stepped a very young, fresh-faced, young man with a big smile and sparkling blue eyes. "Oh great, Eddie Haskell is here," I thought to myself.  Please.  He came over, offered a hand to shake and introduced himself.  He politely thanked me for helping him out and asked where he could start.  After explaining where and how I would like the yard mowed, "Johnny" took off like a man with a mission.  The mower wouldn't start.  So he began to help me trim bushes.  I found him to be an enjoyable gardening companion, despite my efforts to just get this project over with.  He was so honest it took me aback a little.

Johnny was in drug rehab.  He explained how he'd moved to the neighborhood and started a new school-shy, didn't know anybody and wound up with the wrong kind of friends.  He talked about how the people at  his "school" were kind, helpful and firm.  He told me he fought a lot with his mom.  My heart began to melt.  We talked about making mistakes, consequences and forgiveness.   He talked about what a cool dog I had and about his golden retriever, now gone.  About his Dad, who passed away last Christmas. 

The mower started.  The kid mowed like he was trying out for the mowing olympics.   It seemed important to him to do a good job.  And he did.

As he sipped his Pepsi ( the only payment the program allowed), he said, "The program is good, but they can't do it for me.  It's me that has to do the right thing."

Candid.  Wise.  Sweet. I was glad the mower didn't start earlier, that my unexplained energy showed up on this particular day, that my dog loves all people-and that I had a new friend.

LESSONS IN THE GARDEN 8

 SOMETIMES WE JUST NEED SOME GREEN

In March of 2010, just a few weeks after the earthquake, I joined a group of health care professionals led by a well respected Trauma Surgeon whom I had worked with for over twenty years.  The group consisted of nurses, CRNA's, several lay people who just wanted to serve and a young family practice resident-different ages, experiences, educations, beliefs.  Common denominator:  the deep desire to DO something- a call that went beyond what any of us could put into words.
The Haitians had lost their homes, their health, their loved ones, their arms, legs, mental acuity, sanity...

What we thought was a "medical mission" to operate, recover, drill, repair, wash, medicate, and "fix" things became a spiritual mission to relate-to engage, to learn and to serve.  We wept, cleaned, medicated, prayed, sang operated, recovered, fed, clothed, and admired-what courage, dignity and faith these people lived.  And giving?  Really???  These patients received two meals a day-donated by a service group.  Without exception, each meal was received with gratitude.  And every time, whoever was in the room with them-their family or even the other patient's family-was invited to share the food.  And every time, this too, was received and accepted with gratitude.  I saw as many as four people eat from one plate of food-and all with a thankful heart.  I will never forget that-the humility, the thankfulness and the total lack of self pity.  THEY blessed US.

It's easy to think others are so blessed to have "us" (the church, the US, the wealthy...whatever) that we miss how others bless us with WHO, now WHAT they are. 

This little green (sort of) patch was our quiet place.  It was the place that gave us hope-little sprouts of life coming up between patches of dead grass and forgotten trash.  Trees that had survived what the poorly built homes could not. 

And best of all-our new Haitian friends could be heard singing from here-through the open corridors of the hospital, from their seats around the  "garden' and as they wondered around the grounds finding their inner strength they sang.  They sang when they grieved.  They sang when they received good news.  They sang to comfort each other.  And their voices blended and spoke to us, though we could not understand the words.  Our heart heard.