I had a really rough patch a few years ago. My husband had been sick for a very long time. I had to quit my job and look after him full-time. This took a major toll on my physical and mental health. After my husband passed away, while I was relieved he was no longer suffering, I was absolutely devastated. My entire life had been flipped upside down. I lost the one constant person that I could always rely on. The silence in my house became deafening. The rooms that used to be filled with conversation and laughter were now empty, and I found myself pacing the floors, overwhelmed by grief and loneliness. To keep myself from going crazy, I decided to wage war on the dandelions and crabgrass taking over my backyard.
I started spending my mornings gardening. At first, it was just a way to kill time. I liked how exhausted it made me because then it was easier to sleep at night. But after a few weeks, I realized I was actually looking forward to it. It became a nice routine for me. And my mind began to quiet down. While I was gardening, I would talk to myself (I’m 73 years old, I think it’s allowed!). Mostly about the stubborn roots or how hot it was. But eventually, this dialogue turned into conversations with God. I hadn’t been to church in ages, but back when I went I used to always pray in a very polished, polite way. These mutterings were the opposite: more gritty, real, unfiltered. I let out my anger, my worries about the future, and my sadness. I felt like I didn’t have to pretend to be strong. I could just garden and let out all of my feelings.Plants became my passion!
One afternoon I was staring at the large out-of-control rosebush that had stopped growing flowers. The leafy branches looked healthy but they were taking away all of the plant’s energy. I knew I had to cut them back, even though it kind of hurt my soul to do so. I took my shears and slashed away nearly half of the bush. It was honestly painful, I felt like I was killing it. But the reason I was doing that was so that the rosebush could thrive again. Now here comes the metaphor! The death of my husband, the loss of my old routine, everything had felt like such a punishment. But it was really a form of divine ‘pruning.’ God wasn’t punishing me, he just knew exactly what to do so that I could thrive again. Parts of my life had been cut back so that new growth could emerge. This was a huge revelation for me. I stopped seeing myself as a victim and started seeing myself as a work in progress. Sure enough, a few weeks later, the rosebush burst forth with more blooms than it had ever had before. Now, I view my time in the garden as my most important spiritual discipline. The birds singing in the trees serve as my choir, and the cycle of the seasons reminds me daily that winter never lasts forever and that life always, eventually, returns.
