Missing and longing for my yard.

My garden was alive and full of flowers and plants. Doves would reside in our little pavillion and at last, I learned how to grow little seedlings into actual fruit. Strawberries. I had a home surrounded with the sweet scent of acacia, jasmine, pink jasmine and hyacinth. The jasmine was crawling all up and around the perimeter of the house on an old fashioned 40 year old chain link fence. The fence also had bouganvillia growing in and out of the fence. Fuscia so vibrant it would attract bees, many butterflies, hummingbirds, and any other living critter it would provide nectar for. There were so many plants and trees it was overwhelming. It was unbelievable that I had such a yard to work in. Something I had just become so comfortable in and then we move. Granted, we wanted to leave Burbank. It just didn't seem like it was going to happen so quickly.

I would find myself practically living in the yard gardening and breathing in the fresh air. Feeling the dirt under my feet and feeling so grounded and closer to God. I learned so much about myself over the last4 years of working in the garden. I really grew an appreciation much stronger than before for this earth. I would watch the dove families have their babies and stare at the bees. Gardening also saved my life.

When I began to garden, it was completely accidental. It started with simple stuff like watering the plants and grass. Then slowly I began to catch myself pulling weeds, trimming flowers and pinching off the dead petals and before I knew it, I was in my virtual heaven and saving grace.

The gardening began and I began to see the flowers become happier and happier but with great hesitation and seeming of much saddness. So I continued to do my best and work so hard. Little did I know, I was missing something. The presence of peace which I could find in God.

I was in the car one day and heard an awesome song by Kirk Franklin - Looking for You. My eyes welled up with tears and I ran home and got that little iPod and loaded it. I began to find more, and more songs!Gregorian chants, salsa, gospel. Needless to say, this became my playlist for my walking and gardening of which I would spend at least 5 hours out of my day. It was like a dedication to taking care of living things through my worship and blessings to come. I would find myself singing and enjoying the lyrics without even thinking the flowers, trees, animals, plants, you name it, would respond. Respond they did. This, my friend, is and what saved me.

At this time while I was learning so much about my yard, which gets a pruning, which doesnt, and how and when to fertilize. I would garden barefoot to feel the earth under my toes. I felt so close to the earth, so close to God and what he has blessed us with. This life of the earth. Sweet scents, buzzing bees, and all the like from my sweet garden. Sadly, I did not feel such bliss till the opression of suicide that weighed on my heavily started to subside.

My racing thoughts of suicide were so comfortable and cozy before this new found appreciation. The one particular day I "happened" upon gardening, I had been tempted to take my life with whatever I could. Pills, razor blade, the train, it didn't matter. I hated me, life, and was consumed with horrid sadness. Diagnosis of illness and living in bipolar mania rendered me helpless, hopeless and not worth a poop in my mind. It was as if God called me out to the yard to accidentally slip into the green thumb mode. As if he called me into a life of peace with such activities and his knowing how much I have a love for the sweet smell of flowers.

Needless to say, God did intervene and saved my life 3 years ago through my garden. I really relearned a way to love and praise God. I felt anew. And now, I am here, in the desert wondering whats in store and how am I ever going to get that feeling back. The satisfaction of gardening and offering up its beauty to God.

The desert can be a harsh place to grow all of those wonderful things I did back in Burbank. The extreme temperatures, freezing one season, frying the next are unforgiving. I am saddened by this climate change. I cry from time-to-time for my gardenin Burbank. How and what can I do with this one? The interior of our home is nurtured with love and our loving our new quieter lifestyle.But what is it that I am supposed to be learning from this particular part of my life? I care for my nephew quite often. Sleep overs, making cookies, being silly and tickle time. I can't seem to imagine what it is. I hope and trust in God that he will show me how to nurture this yard, but at this point, it feels hopeless. I know something will come and that I can never make the past the present. To wish for something that was to become what is now is impossible. Those times pass for a reason. There has to be something I can do with our home and gardening to bring me back to that feeling as I am, part of the earth. Feet on the ground, hands in the dirt with my iPod blaring wonderful music that brings such inner peace has to be somewhere around here. But God only knows when and how. sigh