A Clearing in the Garden

Last week, I wrote about what happens when the garden feels too full.

This week, I don't think there is necessarily less growing in it.

Life is still moving at a pace that sometimes feels faster than I can keep up with. There is work and home, preparations for the festival, and all the ordinary things that somehow still need doing in the middle of everything else. There is Charlotte and school, learning an entirely new system together and trying to figure out what works for her and what doesn't. And there is epilepsy, always somewhere in the background, reminding us that even the best-laid plans sometimes have to change without warning.

None of that went away this week.

But something did change.

I cleaned my office.

That doesn't exactly sound like some great revelation, does it?

But as I started organizing everything, putting things where they belonged and clearing away the piles that had accumulated while I've been working toward the festival, I started seeing something I hadn't really allowed myself to see.

How much I have already done.

For weeks, I have been looking almost exclusively at what is left.

What still needs to be made. What still needs to be ordered. What still needs to be finished. What I might have forgotten. What could go wrong.

There is always another thing waiting to be added to the list.

But standing there in a more organized space, looking at everything that has already been created, gathered, packaged and prepared, the festival suddenly didn't feel quite so enormous.

There was evidence all around me that I had been moving forward the entire time.

Sometimes I think we become so focused on where we're trying to go that we forget to turn around and look at the path behind us.

We measure ourselves by what remains unfinished instead of everything we've already accomplished.

And when life is moving quickly, that can make it feel as though we're constantly falling behind.

Maybe we're not.

Maybe sometimes we're simply standing in the middle of something that is still growing.

The garden hasn't suddenly become quiet. There are still weeds that need pulling and things that need tending. There are still days when Charlotte's school feels overwhelming, days when epilepsy changes the plan, days when work follows me home in my thoughts, and evenings when I look at my list and wonder how I'm possibly going to get everything done.

But I'm learning that I don't have to see the entire path to keep walking it.

I can deal with what is in front of me today.

I can adjust when something changes.

I can rest when I need to.

And every once in a while, I can stop long enough to look around and acknowledge what I've already built.

Maybe that is what this week gave me.

Not an empty garden.

Not a finished garden.

Just a little clearing in the middle of it.

A place where I could stand for a moment, look behind me, look toward what is still ahead, and realize that I'm not nearly as far behind as I thought I was.

There is still plenty to do.

Life will keep moving.

So will I.

But perhaps moving forward doesn't always have to feel frantic.

Sometimes it can simply mean taking the next step, tending the next thing, and trusting that all those small steps are carrying us somewhere — even when we're too busy walking to notice.

Until next time, I'll meet you Through the Garden Gate. 🌿

~Mary