Plant a Seed and Watch Me Grow

 

One of Honey’s favorite flowers is the dandelion. It’s probably the first flower that most of us encounter as a child. Somewhere in early Spring, little yellow flowers begin to pop up all over the yard, and seemingly within days, the fuzzy little white puff balls appear on top of the stems, just begging for a child to pluck one, make a wish and then set the seeds off on their floating journey with just a puff of breath.

I can’t think of a better symbol for this thing we call Home Grown Faith Farm. The seeds that have grown into this effort were carried on the winds for twenty years before they took root in our hearts. Honey’s mama Debbie organized and oversaw a gardening project for the children living in Tanglewood/Terrace Apartments, called “Plant a Seed and Watch Me Grow.” Much like a child with a dandelion, I think with projects like this Debbie made a wish and exhaled with all of her might, hoping that the seeds of love she was planting in the hearts of her children and grandchildren — both biological and spiritual —  would take to the winds and spread far and wide for years to come. And you know what? They did.

For the duration of the “Plant a Seed and Watch Me Grow” project, dozens of children and countless adults in the Tanglewood/Terrace Apartment community where she lived were blessed with the satisfaction of working in the dirt, the joy of seeing that work grow and bloom day after day, and finally the reward of harvesting from the bounty you helped to create, be it the beauty of flowers or the nourishment of food. Growing up in the city, you don’t always get an opportunity to witness the magic of God’s creation in action, so Debbie manufactured an opportunity for the children of Tanglewood/Terrace Apartments, and for many of the aging residents who once enjoyed gardening, but were physically unable to maintain one at their age, it was a chance to relive their youth and share those experiences with the youth of their community.

In time, like the bright yellow flower of the dandelion, the vibrant bloom of her life closed and withered under the merciless advancement of cancer. But just like the dandelion, though the petals of her life withered and died, they opened again and were refashioned as seeds. Though the cold winds of grief blew across our lives, those same winds gave flight to her seed and scattered them far and wide. With humans and with nature, there is a cycle to life. Things sprout, grow, bloom, wither, and die, but as long as there is a seed, they can return. Sometimes those seeds lie dormant for long periods, but with just a little dirt, light, water and warmth, the cycle begins again. The flower dies, but from that death comes wishes. Wishes that drift away on the breeze, landing in far away places, only to take root and grow again. The seeds she spread years ago would eventually find a home in the hospitable environment of the hearts she touched.

We see it blooming in the lives of those children, now adults, like Lyric, whose heart is the only thing more beautiful than her voice. In her, you can see the cycle of the seasons of life returning to Springtime again. As an adult she has taken a job in the same office at Tanglewood/Terrace Apartments once occupied by Debbie. She carries on the legacy of love as our “Artist in Residence” of sorts, painting our memorial book bricks that will decorate the garden this year.

We see it. Blooming in Miguel, whose kind and gentle spirit has grown right along with his physical stature from a boy to a man. The quiet little boy who was always there to help with anything, has grown into a confident and talented man, launching out into the world, completing his education and helping in the health care industry, but still taking the time to say in touch and connected despite his busy life.

And then there is Honey. She has taken those seeds of generosity and love of neighbor and planted this garden as an homage to her mother. Every moment she spends there you see past and present intertwining as mother and daughter share the same sacred space, one physically present, one present in spirit.

Gardens are beautiful and bountiful, but they’ve also got to be tough and resilient. Those plants grow in an environment that we escape in our air conditioned houses. Day after day they feel the burn of the brutal Southern summer heat. They have to develop strong roots to withstand the howling winds and beating rain of thunderstorms, not to mention the invasion of pests wanting to devour them and weeds wanting to steal their sustenance. I think single moms like Debbie could relate, and know that their children are going to have to learn those same skills to survive in what can be a harsh and cruel environment. What better place to learn that than in the garden?

Dandelion is French for “lion’s teeth” which is also a fitting description of Debbie. Although she would give you the shirt off her back and the last dollar to her name, she would also give you a piece of her mind when you were doing something stupid, and that could sound like a roaring lion in the moment. That mixture of toughness and generosity was partly the byproduct of Debbie being a single mother and single moms learn fast that their lives are often lived without a safety net. Despite not having much to give, they tend to be generous because they know first hand how much of a difference it can make to be on the receiving end of the kindness of strangers. But they also know at the end of the day, you alone have to take care of everything, so resilience isn’t just a strength as much as a necessity for survival. 

Though the details aren’t relevant to this writing, I personally saw her get cut down the ground a half dozen times in the 25 years I knew her, but she always got back up and bloomed again. The same is true for the dandelion. Cut them down with a lawnmower and two days later hundreds of dandelions are back and bright as ever. No one replanted them, no one cultivated them, they are just resilient and they stand up tall and defiant as if to say, “You can cut me down, but I will just grow taller and stronger.” 

It all starts with a seed, an idea, a simple gesture, but then it takes to the wind and spreads, takes root, and grows again. Without the aid of gardeners, and despite our best efforts to poison them, cut them, and kill them, the dandelion flourishes year after year, and as long as we are able, so will this garden that was inspired by her. But even when it ends, we know those seeds will just take to the wind and begin again.