It was a gorgeous day at the garden center. A gentle breeze danced through the heavily perfumed air, playfully mixing and mingling with the sweet and savory scents of the flowers and herbs. The earthy scent of grass clippings and warm soil felt like a tender embrace, comfortable and calm.
The parking lot was nearly full, but as we navigated up and down the rows looking for an open space, the other drivers were surprisingly patient, politely waiting for each other. Two cars coming from opposite directions set their sights on the same open spot; instead of honking or revving the motor in order to reach it first, each driver stopped, looked at each other and smiled, until one lowered his window and conceded the spot to the other with a friendly wave.
All this caught my attention because in my unprofessional opinion, a lot of people seem sad, angry, or depressed lately. I hear harsh words being spoken in stores and restaurants. Driving anywhere feels like navigating through an anger management workshop that’s gone off the rails. Any optimism people had was bruised and battered at some point, and people are having a hard time learning to trust again.
But between the annuals and perennials, the succulents and the shrubs at the garden center, I saw hope. No, I felt it. The smiling faces of new homeowners and backyard dreamers rivaled the beauty of the blooms.
I couldn’t decide where to look: the plants were lovely, but even more miraculous was seeing the beauty of all those living things reflected in the eyes of the gardeners. I was enamored by all those humans, unhurried in their movements, asking thoughtful questions about watering and pruning. It made me realize: We’re all going to be okay. Even when sadness and negativity seems to crash around us from all sides, it only takes a tiny seedling of hope to overcome the yuck.
At the garden center, I saw hope in human form: strangers convening in one place for the sole purpose of choosing another living thing to take home, lovingly plant in the soil, and tend it so it will thrive.
I’m writing this down so that I will remember, but I want you to remember, too. Step away from the dark places devoid of joy and delight. Step into the sun and look around until you see something small but beautiful that needs tending and nurturing.
Imagine how that thing will grow in your care. Then, reach out to it and decide to make it your own. If we can summon the courage to allow a little hope into our hearts, then we’re all going to be okay.
