A garden starts as tiny seeds. They are immersed in dirt, rained on, attacked by pests and storms, but every day they continue to grow. Along with those oppressive circumstances, the sun shines brightly on those same seeds and they take that life-giving light and soak up every ray. Over time they begin to blossom with flowers and develop into beautiful and vibrant vegetables and fruit.
Just like the produce of the garden, we need the dirt, rain and storms of life to help us thrive when the sun shines our way. Without those messy parts, we wouldn't have any substance to make us grow.
As I watched Luke dig around in the dirt with grandma, the compulsive, control-freak part of my mothering brain immediately wanted to change him out of his white tee shirt and put on some grubby clothes. But, I stopped myself and had a good, long pondering on it all.
What good is life if we don't take time to get our hands dirty or cease to find ourself in some sort of wreckage? To me, a life spent pent up in fear of getting scratches, bumps and stains sounds terrible, frankly. And lonely. And depressing. It may remain pretty and shiny on the exterior, but beneath all of that neatness is a sad and limited existence. Ironically, wasting all of that energy trying to avoid disaster generally ends up in the worst kind of inner turmoil. This life is meant for growing, stretching and
feeling. I want to feel incredible joy, peace, and passion, but I also want to feel the aches, despair, and uncertainties. All of those emotions combined are what remind me that I am blessed to be alive; that I am human and will miraculously somehow not break, no matter what happens. I am trying to live in the moment, savoring each and every feeling, wonderful and heart-wrenching.I may not be the most graceful at it, but I am learning to let life get messy. Turns out I am a rather broken, imperfect person, but as I continue to level up with each change and growing pain that life throws me, I am really liking the person I am emerging as at the surface of it all.