GOODBYE to the GOOD

I wish I was a gardener. 

Which isn’t to say I haven’t tried.

Because gardening is what I’m convinced all respectable moms with a piece of dirt who really love their family do. Fresh vegetables straight from my heart to theirs, touched by my land and my hands alone. Sigh.

I’ve tried many times - planting, watering, weeding and more. But time is scarce and weeds are fierce and it quickly becomes just another thing I’m failing at.

My only claim to gardening fame is a picture of me standing on my property holding a bounty of home-grown goodness. Hair back, sans makeup, clutching a wooden bowl filled with gorgeous tomatoes, jalapeños and bells. Truth told that photo only exists because those beauties were planted before we bought the place. Thank you, miss previous home owner, for making me look good. 

I wish I was a gardener, wish I loved it, but I don’t.

These days I pay someone else who truly enjoys gardening for their organic goodies and give myself a pass.

And since I have retired my not-so-green-thumb, our garden beds have been converted to flowers, thanks to a husband who does all the work. My guy plants, waters, weeds and harvests, my sole responsibility is thinning. 

Thinning: The art of getting rid of perfectly good plants.

Plant too many seeds, wait until they start to grow, and then reduce the number of plants. Sowed 8 seeds in a foot of space? Seven of them have to go. Seven hopeful little shoots. I wish the little sprouts could hear me apologize.

But left without thinning, virtually none of the plants thrive - trust me, I’ve tried. Without pulling out many of the good sprouting seeds, no plant can reach its full potential. 

And such it is with life.

In the garden of our lives the draw toward growing everything is everywhere. Do more, accomplish more, be more to more people. Ask virtually any person how their week is going and they’ll likely reply, “busy.” We are over scheduled and over saturated at every turn.

But at this pace and with this much crowding, a question lingers.

Do any of our flowers truly have a chance to grow?

The weeds are easy, we know they shouldn’t be there. But there are so many ‘good’ things that call to us, so many new shoots that would happily take up root in the soil of our heart and time. Accomplishing, volunteering, caring - there is virtually no boundary to the good we could give ourselves toward. 

But there is a boundary to the size of our garden.  

There is a limit on the amount of flowers we can actually grow. 

These days I’m looking at the sprouts in my life, realizing that not all can remain. I’m giving myself grace to realize that every ‘no’ I offer up is actually a ‘yes’ to the plants I long to see thrive, that every crowding shoot I pull is a gift to the few flowers I am determined to grow.

Thinning is a challenge, both in gardens and in life, but each plant you love is worth it, especially when you finally see its flowers grow.