gift

This is a picture of my mom, in our vegetable garden about 7 years ago. It was her first garden since she was a little girl growing up in Illinois. For me, it was blood, sweat, and tears. I tilled the ground and removed the grass. I hauled soil and compost. I built up the beds and planted seeds. She directed, I worked, we argued and scowled at each other out of my sheer exhaustion. She couldn't help at all physically, so she brought me water and just let me be. I was in way over my head, but generally speaking, I'm not a quitter, so I kept tilling, building, and planting.

I did it all with a really shitty attitude, I wish I would have done it differently. I wish I would have noticed how happy she was to have a garden being designed for her, I wish this would have made me happy, instead of angry. But the farther along I got on that project, the more exhausted I became. I'm bad about telling people how I'm really feeling, so I didn't ask for help. So when I see this picture I'm happy and sad. Even though it wasn't my shining moment as a daughter, we still made something beautiful together. And it was a gift I gave her.

She tended that garden every day, dead heading, pruning, bringing in lettuce, tomatoes, and peppers. It was salve to her soul to work that little plot. And most of my life feels like this, good and bad all rolled together. Our brokenness right beside our beauty. So many opportunities for grace upon grace upon grace. My mom has been in the presence of her Maker for almost 4 years now and I hope she has a garden to tend.

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