Gardening and Lessons on trying, failing and beginning again.
“Are you almost done yet?” he asked.
“No,” I respond sharply.
“How much longer do you think it’ll take?”
“I don’t know, I’m just trying to finish like we said.”
“Oh ok, that’s fine, I just thought you already did the research to figure this all out.”
“I did research, but it’s all new, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m trying but failing so just go back inside and let me finish,” I say. I’m angry now. Defensiveness boiling up like water in a tea kettle ready to let out the whistle in alarm shouting “I’m ready, I’m ready!” Though what I wanted to shout was not so kind.
But before the boil could hit its peak, he turns away to go inside and finish making dinner. And I, knowing my outburst was less about him and more about my own sense of defeat, turn back toward the garden beds and cry.
I was tired of being a beginner, tired of not knowing, tired of having to once again figure something out, guessing and putting forth effort to potentially have it all end up failing miserably.
The beginning of our cucumber plant…before it all went very wrong.
This was supposed to be my postpartum project. “Plant a garden,” I thought. “Get outside, enjoy the weather and fresh air. It’ll help you,” I believed.
But here I am disheartened. I’m in over my head, unable to complete the task before me. I’m learning something new - again - and I just want a win. But today’s confusion leaves me feeling so far from it.
I know the expectation to try something new and be good at it is ridiculous. I also understand it’s good to try and fail. Being a mother to a child with the tendencies of a perfectionist has given me plenty of opportunity to say “don’t worry, I’m with you, let’s just try. That’s what matters.” many, many times. And yet here I am, failing to take my own advice.
“I just want a win. I need a win.”
What happens when it feels like it’s been years since you’ve done something well? Not just good, but well. So well that you leave feeling like “yes, this, this is what I was made to do.” What happens when you simply want to win at something other than groceries, laundry, or doing the dishes? (or fill in the blank for whatever that mundane task is for you.)
I wanted to garden to make food for my family. To explore the wonder of plants and soil and sun and earth. I wanted to teach my kids while also bonding with them through planting together. I wanted to commune with God. The flowers were to add beauty. The food was to fill bellies. It was meant to be joyous.
Yet, I’m crying? Yes. I’m crying. I’m crying because it’s felt like years since I’ve done something where I felt confident, in control and able.
Today, I was forced to live in the not knowing. I. don’t. know. Three powerful words when strung together. The words of a humble person, a person poor in spirit, not seeking to pretend to have it all together.
When willing to actually embrace them, the words “I don’t know” are deeply formative. And while for a moment I felt a bit broken, sad because once again I don’t know how to do something - it is in this moment I am also being formed. Becoming a beginner keeps us humble, demands patience and beckons vulnerability. And for me, well today it made me remember my smallness. It reminded me that I don’t know. In a time when it seems we are all required to be experts. As much as I think I’m above it, I too get swept away in the beyond idealistic photos of before and afters I see online - from ugly to beautiful in an instant it seems. But what the before and afters often leave out is the in-between. The frustration. The mess ups. The tension of being “in between”. Today I lived in that in between and I saw the beginning stages of a woman being undone, only to be built back up again a bit more resilient, a bit more experienced, a whole lot more humble. One step toward becoming the kind of person I want to be.
What is your in between moment? Are you in it now? Were you in it recently?
