Some Things Need Gentle Tending

There are weeks when the people we love are hurting, and no matter how badly we want to, we cannot fix it.

I was reminded of that this week.

Someone I love very much has been carrying some heavy feelings. The kind that don't have an easy answer. The kind that make you wish you could reach inside, pull out the hurt, set it down somewhere far away, and tell them they never have to carry it again.

But we can't always do that.

Sometimes all we can do is stay.

It made me think about the way we tend a garden.

When something in the garden is struggling, our first instinct can be to do something. More water. More fertilizer. Move it into the sun. Move it out of the sun. Repot it. Prune it. Surely there must be something we can do to make it better.

But sometimes, doing more isn't what it needs.

Sometimes it needs a gentler hand.

A little water. Some protection from the harshest part of the day. Time for its roots to settle. And someone willing to keep tending it without demanding that it bloom before it's ready.

People aren't so different.

There are hurts we can't take away from the people we love. There are questions we can't answer for them and choices that aren't ours to make. We can't promise that everything will happen the way they hope it will.

But we can remind them that they are loved.

We can listen, even when we've heard the same fear before.

We can reassure them again tomorrow if they need to hear it again.

We can be patient when hurt comes out as anger, frustration, tears, or silence.

And we can make sure they know they have somewhere safe to land.

I think sometimes we underestimate how much that matters.

We want to fix things because fixing feels like action. Sitting beside someone while they hurt can feel like we're not doing enough.

But maybe staying is doing something.

Maybe patience is doing something.

Maybe loving someone through something we cannot change is its own kind of tending.

Gardens don't bloom because we stand over them and demand it. They bloom because, day after day, someone quietly gives them what they need.

Water.

Light.

Shelter.

Patience.

And time.

So this week, I'm trying to remember that not everything needs to be fixed.

Some things simply need to be held gently while they find their way back toward the light.

And maybe there is someone in your garden who needs a gentler hand right now.

Maybe it's someone you love.

Or maybe, this week, it's you.

Until next time,

Meet me Through the Garden Gate.