Gardner's Journal: Coreopsis Grace

This idea of sharing one's garden through giving away perennials is one that is very appealing to me. In the first section of my garden there are a hosts of perennials, shrubs and roses that are now reproducing with abandon. What was once a small scraggly piece of earth is now fully entombed with dark branches, sponges of roses, explosions of color.

And a garden does what most healthy organisms do...it grows and reproduces itself.

In the corner of my garden is a rich thicket of coreopsis a perennial with bold yellow color, tufts of dark green foliage. They are getting ready to dot the entire landscape of my garden with their swaying and folly.

In fact, too many. Too much color, too much green, too much. My garden overflows with the abundance of this beautiful, sturdy flower.

I called my father in law and offered it to him. He was thrilled because he enjoyed looking at it while he was here the other day. So this afternoon I will be packing away these tough little plants to share.

And as I do, I think about sharing. I think about sharing grace.

Grace is one of those words that religious folk have used so much it really doesn't affect us much anymore. Like a shot of innoculation, we have become immune to the power of this word and to the power of what it can do.

Having lived through the 70's and 80's, I am a child of the self-help generation. The "you can have it all" gurus filled with seminars and workshops on how to better oneself. And these are worthwhile endeavors that are designed to assist us in being more of what we can be. I take no fault on this premise, having spent a good deal of my own life improving, improving, improving. Every good INTJ knows that improvement is what it is all about.

But is it? Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't be more helped by learning to be human. To be comfortable with my foibles and mistakes. After all, I spend much more time in that zone than in the super-human part. Like most of us, I am filled with complex contradictions, wierd logic and just crazy ideas and actions sometimes.

Aren't we all?

Really, aren't we all? If to be human is that we must strive towards some perfect place, then maybe I don't want to be human at all. Maybe I'll leave perfection to the Gods of this world and I'll take my place alongside them as an imperfect offspring. And as Terry Hershey says so well, "I ain't God and further, I'm not applying for the job."

That's where grace comes in. Grace filled with the nodding approval of others and their foibles, much like mine. To extend grace to another is being the most human that we can be. It's saying that "I am like you...you are like me...and together we're on this thing called life and we're going about things imperfectly."

But where do I find this grace when I hurt? This power to heal my own wounds simply by forgiving others of their own inadequacies?

Tough question for us self-help folks. I can't always "feel" my way, control my way, steer my way to it. It's a question that stops me in my tracks, until I remember my garden.

Those seeds were given to me from another source. And I have nurtured them and now there is so much that I can give it to others.

To others in need.

To others in pain.

To others who are human.