Garden of Love

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, a family was born. Each member of this extra-ordinary family was as different and unique as the flowers that once grew in their mother’s garden. Every member of the family bloomed and grew at different stages in their lives and when the wild weeds threatened to over-take and choke them out, the mother and father gardener would tend to the weeds.


The family grew in love and became one of the most beautiful bouquets their mother had ever seen. The years swiftly moved by and mother would often reminisce along with the father about how their once tiny infants had transpired into the strong adults that now stood before them. Mother mused often over the memory of each birth, each new beginning in their family and how the once small child felt in her arms.

A mother’s love grows deep as does the father and the hearts hold each precious moment, and the not so precious moments close. The family had many happy moments and at times suffered through many storms that threatened to tear them to bits. There were times that the family had to hold tight to what they knew was true in their hearts and struggle against the strong winds. Many times, just when the mother felt sure she could not with stand another storm of worry, the calm would set in and before her would stand a stronger child and a more loving family than she ever thought possible.

It was through these stormy times that they each grew stronger and blossomed even more lovely. Mother turned her worries over each time to her heavenly Father and prayed over each child and her husband until the peace enveloped her. She knew in her heart of hearts that God held their family in His mighty hands and that no matter what, they would survive.

Mother’s heart was overfilled with love for her children, so much so that often it felt as if her heart would burst from the joy she held. However, once the children grew and scattered in the wind like seeds of the flowers, planting themselves in other parts of the great city, mother felt at a loss. The once upon a time full house, that had been filled with noise, laughter and talking now felt silent and empty.

Mother and father felt truly blessed by each of their children and as hard as it was to see them leave and go out into the world on their own, they stood quietly back and watched. Sometimes, not so quietly, mother would voice her worry and give unwarranted advice much to the amusement of her husband and children.

One by one the children left the humble home of their mother and father and each time the mother’s heart felt like it was breaking in two. When the first one left, she cried for days, worrying over how young her little girl was and fretted over every little thing. As hard as it was, she supported her child’s decision, remembering how young she was when she had left her own home to build a life.

Then when the second one left, mother refused to help pack one box; instead she stood and snapped photos of her baby girl loading the truck that would take her out into the world and into a new life. Mother often helped the children build their homes, lending a hand to unpack but never assisting into the packing up of childhood dreams. The house seemed more quiet with two gone and her heart ached for them to return. Then before long child number three left and then the fourth and the fifth. Before long only the mother, the father and the youngest son was left in a home empty of the laughter that once filled it. The rooms groaned with the weight of sadness that often envelopes a family parting.

Soon however, more family members came to be and the mother and the father became even more blessed with the off-spring of their children. Children moved back in and back out and the circus of life began again. Their large family grew even larger with at first significant others, then husbands and at last grandchildren.

Often, at night, while her husband lay sleeping, mother would slowly walk through the still halls of the house and remember. Pictures lined walls and tables of each child and their children. She would smile at the memories the photo’s held, still shots of captured moments in their busy lives. Small imprints of hands from grandchildren marked the walls and she would remember how the same walls once held crayon marks and how upset she had been. Now her wish was to uncover these painted walls and let the marks remain. If only she had known then what she now held in her heart, never sweat the small stuff.

She wished she could turn back the hands on the clock and hold still. Why had she not played more? Why had she not snuggled them more, or listened more? It was life and the busy moments that often fill it that threaten to choke it just as weeds filled her garden.

It was in those quiet moments in the early mornings while most slept, that mother would miss her children. She would think of them, write in their journals her thoughts and love and worry over how they were.

The building of a family is never easy, each family takes bits and pieces of their past and their significant others past and bring with them memories and traditions to blend together. Sometimes it fits, sometimes it doesn’t. She hoped her children knew this or at the very least was learning it as they set out into the adult world.

The things mother found most difficult and least understood was the letting go of each child. There are moments in a child’s life in which you watch them take those first tentative steps and observe as they begin to wobble unsteadily. Mother would start to reach out, to try and prevent the falling, but often drew back her shaky hand and let them go. It is in the struggle to help, to watch painfully as the child grows into themselves that she felt the most helpless. There were times the children doubted her love, wanting her more involved and sometimes wishing she were less involved.

The mother knew in her heart that the only way her children would grow and become the strong individuals they were to become was to allow them to go on their own. Many times the mother and the father bit tongues, other times sarcasm in advise would spew forth, but in the end, they waited, they watched and they continued to love.

Each time the mother would struggle, she would call to mind a father and son from long, long, long ago. The father loved his son with such a love that his pride would swell and lightness would fill his heart. He watched his son grow, raised by others from afar. Even though he loved his son so very much, he knew it was best to allow two others to bring him up in the world. The father was never far from his son and often would speak to his child. Many times the father watched in pain as those in the city would bully his son, not understanding the strange and unique ways of the young man.

The son often turned to the father, knowing that wise advice would help him through matters and it was this bond that cemented their relationship. The son and the father were extremely close and the love that grew came from mutual respect. Other people could never understand the close relationship of parent and son.

One day though, the son fell into the hands of some very devious people who could not understand the father/son relationship, it threatened their very beings. Because they could not understand, they beat the son, they ridiculed him and finally, they killed him. The son’s father, his other parents stood by and watched all the while inside also were dying. The son however, in his last words turned to his tormenters and forgave them.

The mother drew from the stories she had heard and kept them close to her heart, for she knew the love of a parent and child was strong. The father had faced more pain than she could imagine when his son died and her heart ached at even the thought of this. The father knew best what lie ahead. Mother wished she could see into the future, know in her heart that her own children would find their own way and learn to love enough to forgive.

So for now, she would continue to watch her garden grow, her flowers bloom and life carry on. The seeds of her love would scatter in the wind and she learned to trust the Father knew best, even when she was unsure.

The Garden

The flower only grows

if there is sun to lift it up,

and if the rain nourishes.

Weeds must be pulled

so it does not choke off

the blooms.

Earth must be turned

over now and then to

loosen the hard ground.

In order to transplant

the flower, the roots

must be handled with care.

To let a garden grow rampant,

only allows it to go at risk

of losing it.

So much the garden can

teach us about love

and about life.

Teresa Gale

1/9/11