Signs of Life, Seeds of Hope

Can I be [even more] candid [than usual] with you?

I've been plagued lately by fears that I may unwittingly be doing something that could adversely affect my little Sugar Bean's development, the conditions in my womb, or our chances of a non-surgical birth. The results from all my tests and checkups should convince me otherwise, I know... but considering I've felt like a tiny paper boat adrift in a sea of my own hormones for months now, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that it's taking more effort than usual to align my perceptions with reality.

Fortunately, good tidings of reassurance have come to me, and in a most simple and lovely way at that...

It was two years ago this week that I started my first compost pile. In the blog entry I wrote to commemorate the occasion, I noted that it was probably one of the best garden-y things I could do, since with my black thumb -- the power to kill even fake plants --  the only thing I could probably ever grow is... frustrated with my efforts.

Well, recently I've been reading some of Brian McLaren's Everything Must Change and was struck by what he had to say about "framing stories" -- the things we believe about ourselves and others that set the stage for many of our failures and successes. I was both convicted and liberated as I realized that my deeply-rooted beliefs about my own inability to grow things might be all that was holding me back. Curiously enough, that moment of clarity came the same day I discovered several small plastic-lined packets of herb seeds tucked into a stack of clay pots a friend gave me. 

Biting my lip in a moment of indecision, I then had a glorious realization: even though the seeds might only have a one percent chance of sprouting under my inexperienced care, that was still a better chance than they had if I never opened the packets at all. With eager but unsteady hands, I planted some basil and chive seeds in starter pots, watered them generously, and set them on the patio table to do whatever they could.

Not quite a week has passed, and today I finally saw that both pots have tiny sprouts emerging from the soil. The seeds, blissfully unaware of how inept I've been at keeping already-established plants alive, have germinated.

Now then, for the humbling but really lovely part: after I'd done my little happy dance around the patio, I noticed that the packet containing the other half of the basil seeds -- which I'd set aside for a second attempt, in case I utterly botched the first one -- had been blown from the table and gotten damp in the recent shower. Unfolding the top and peeking in, I grinned sheepishly as I discovered that they too had germinated... without the "benefit" of all the fussing I'd done over the other ones. I'd merely opened the packet, and nature -- as it was designed to do -- had taken care of the rest.

I gladly learned the unmistakable lesson I was being taught: that although it's good to do what you can, I can only do so much... and after that, I have to trust that God has more than enough experience in making things grow to bring forth life despite my best efforts and my shortcomings.

So keep growing, little basil. Keep growing, little chives. Keep growing, little Sugar Bean. I'll see each of you in due time.

Comments

[gb]

Oh, boy... I know I'm gonna hear about it for the schmaltzy sound of what I am going to say, but it is so well born out that I'll take that chance.

Recently, my wife and I have repeatedly faced realities that were, let's say, not exactly in line with our (hoped for) expectations. Considering that for some time now, we have not had the under-rated benefit of at least being in the same general hemisphere with each other (nightly SKYPING is also under-rated), our shared words of insight and encouragement mean a great deal and tend not to be wasted with much meaningless drivel.

Anyway, I recently acknowledged (for her) that there is a clear limit to what she can possibly do. Understanding her incredible capacities notwithstanding, there are limits. As the near-immortal Hawkeye Pierce of M.A.S.H. once said, "Well, hey... best is best."

(Note: While I try to convince myself I may have some "serious" issues to juggle in my life, knowing that she is literally trying to keep people alive hour-by-hour and day-to-day by running the Emergency Room of that country's largest Psychiatric Hospital does tend to put me in my place.) Currently, being required to work long days while plagued by a series of continuous bouts of quite severe illnesses of her own, she truly fears she is not up to her very, very best, every minute of every day... and that troubles her if for nothing else, the sake of her patients. Such a conscientious sense of responsibility creates considerable anxiety for her.

So... (here it comes) at one point the only realistic, practical advice or comfort I could offer her was to say something that had occurred to me a little earlier (not that it is likely original at all), "When you can't do your best, just do the best that you can... and leave the rest in God's hands... that's all He asks. Give Him some credit for knowing your "complete" situation, your limitations and for already intervening to take care of all the things which you can't.".

Simplistic, perhaps. Since then though, we have both taken comfort in reminding ourselves of this.

Hey... best is best.