Finding Hope When the Dream Dies

country-cabinEvery year since – forever – seed catalogs have arrived in my mailbox during the last of the winter weeks. They are a harbinger of hope because nothing spells faith like planting seeds and believing perennials, green beans and marigolds will indeed sprout and come to life.

But this year, I am throwing the catalogs into the recycling bin. I cannot even bear to look at pictures of purple lobelia or happy-faced pansies.

This year, I have finally realized I can no longer maintain my gardens.

Reality began to set in during last year’s season when I tried to dig weeds and spread mulch. Within minutes, grass allergies kicked in, and I ran to the house for my meds. Even so, the next day – dark circles rimmed my eyes and the fatigue of immune system warfare affected my energy levels.

I ignored the symptoms because gardening has been so important to me. Just the therapy of digging in fresh soil, following my farming ancestors’ passion to coax the sprouting of life has brought me annual joy.

Gardening has nurtured my dream – to own a cottage in the country surrounded by flowers and produce where bees drink nectar and butterflies land for a respite during their annual migration.

But reality clarifies the cost of mulch and new plants, plus the hours required to make such gardens appear. Reality also underscores that my body and its accompanying allergens now betray me.

I can no longer hang on to a dream I cannot produce.

My dilemma reminds me of my mother’s situation – the woman who worked hard to pay off her house only to be forced to leave it. The realities of Alzheimer’s care betrayed her. Staying in her home mirrors my dream of a garden home.

Now both of us must delete what we wished for.

This year, I will woefully allow the native grasses to engulf my garden spaces. I may move the blueberries and golden raspberries to pots that require little care. I may plant a small row of green beans, enough for a skillet full of nutritious flavor.

But I will no longer drool over the pictures in seed catalogs or plan new plots for hybrid clematis.

This year I will step back and let nature rule. Perhaps my garden dream will morph into an eternal garden where the price my physical body pays no longer affects me.

Instead of  working on my dream, I will stroll through local nurseries to touch leaves, stroke petals and remember the gardens I once nurtured.

To reach toward hope, I will remind myself that the giving up of the dream still yields results albeit a different type of fruit:

  • Saving money
  • Giving away tools to someone who needs them
  • Finding more time to write and read
  • Preserving my health

And when the twinges of grief remind me what is lost, I can always counter with the truth of what will someday be.

Reality forces us to change, but hope answers that the changes may point toward something better.

©2017 RJ Thesman, Author of “Sometimes They Forget” and the Reverend G Trilogy 

 

 

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How to Find Hope in Dandelions

dandelions on handThey raise their little heads above the sprigs of grass. At first, I am cheered by the bright yellow dots in my yard. “It will soon be time for the garden,” I tell the cat. Yes, I talk to my cat.

But by the time they lose their sunshiny tops and begin to climb higher, then sprout white seeds that blow all over creation, I am no longer thrilled to see them.

However, I am always amazed how dandelions persevere through every winter and reappear in my yard. Even though I dig them out each spring, they ride the wings of the wind and once again mess up my plans for a weedless garden.

Weeds are plants out of place. Dandelions are out of place among my peas, green beans and clematis.


But these same weeds have caused me to reflect on the spiritual lessons God sends through creation.


Perseverance: No matter how many times I dig them out and throw away their roots, dandelions reappear. They have conquered my garden space in spite of toxic chemicals, sharp mower blades and a shovel full of dirt. No amount of mulch deters their upward journey as they poke through the cypress sticks or pop up next to the hyacinth.

“Howdy!” they scream. “Here we are again!”

I would like to have that same character trait so that no matter who hurts me or what weapon is used against me, I continue my journey toward the Light.

Location:  Dandelions sprout anywhere and everywhere – between sidewalk cracks, in the middle of rocky landscapes and cuddled next to strawberry blossoms.

My hope is to be an encouragement no matter where I am – seated on the church pew, waiting in the long line for meds in Wal-Mart or sweating out stress in the workplace.

Dandelions teach that location is not as important as vocation. A consistent life of character is my goal – no matter where I sprout.

Effectiveness: Although we kill dandelions, some cultures nurture them for the greens and the tea. When these weeds live in the right place, they prove to be useful plants.

I begin every day with the desire to serve God and others. While it IS important to rest and observe the Sabbath, I pray God will use my work days to help someone else. Within the words I write, the gifts God has given me and my very existence, I want to make a difference.

In Colossians 3:23-24, the Apostle Paul reminds us, “Work hard and cheerfully at all you do, just as though you were working for the Lord and not merely for your masters, remembering that it is the Lord Christ who is going to pay you, giving you your full portion of all he owns. He is the one you are really working for” (TLB).

In spite of the spiritual lessons, dandelions are still not welcome in my garden. But as I dig them out and rid the landscape of their threat, they continue to remind me of a higher goal.

Even a weed praises the Creator who does all things well.

©2016 RJ Thesman – Author of the Reverend G books http://amzn.to/1rXlCyh

Finding Hope at Lowe’s Garden Center

As I checked another day off my planner, I knew I needed to escape from the office and find something to refresh my spirit.

Ice cream? Nah – not on the healthy eating plan. Chai tea? Nope – too late in the day for caffeine.

So I drove to the one place where I knew I might find something creatively beautiful – something to bring cheer and renewed hope.

Especially during this season of spring, I find enjoyment just walking through aisles of flowers at the Lowe’s Garden Center. Salmon pink lilies, Indian blanket daisies that remind me of New Mexico, mounds of lavender and dark purple clematis – all of these and more give me pause and help me focus on what is truly important.flowers @ Lowes

The color of life blends in with God’s texture of hope. I constantly marvel at the way he so carefully details each stamen, draws tiny faces on pansies and outlines a yellow marigold with a bright orange border.

It is difficult to just walk through the aisles as an observer and not choose something to plant in my own garden, yet I need to watch my budget. On this day, I tried – really I did – for about two minutes. Then I could not ignore that bright coreopsis any longer and also found a sweet zinnia that raised its lovely head and whispered, “Plant me.”

Two purchases that I quickly planted in my yard, mounded the fresh mulch around their roots and prayed a blessing over them. These plants will give me pleasure throughout the summer and autumn months and one of them, the perennial coreopsis, will return next year to greet me when the snows of 2014 melt.

A trip to the garden center may seem like just a bit of retail therapy, but it so much more. For within those aisles of color, texture and beauty – I find not only pretty flowers but I am reminded of Who makes it all possible.

It’s more than just a planting. It’s a reason to worship.