Sunday, November 30, 2008

What the Parsley Teaches Me

It is the end of November and snow is starting to fall. After ripping out the last of the garden--a lifeless tomato plant and some frost-shriveled marigolds--I thought it was done until spring. Only an empty plot of soil remained. Then last week, amongst the dead leaves, I spotted some green. Something was growing, despite the freezing nighttime temperatures. The parsley that I never harvested because it looked so anemic and frail all summer long now looks full of vigor. In this weather? Its hardy growth must hold a lesson somewhere. So I've been meditating and pondering. Parsley in November...

Could it be that the harsh weather that put an end to the rest of the garden somehow gave this little plant a chance to become stronger?

My grandparents lived through the Great Depression. The adversities they faced then and throughout their lives, along with their deeply-rooted faith, have doubtless shaped them to be the hardy, admirable souls they are today. They live simply, within their means. They garden. They pray. They are generous. They have been blessed with great-grandchildren and long life. When I think of my heritage, it is simple, deep, and rich. Not rich in worldly wealth, but in wisdom, joy, and wonder. My grandparents epitomize the simple path I aspire to choose. I should tell them that while I still have the chance.

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