The Master Gardener

I have so many childhood memories of my grandma’s garden. My grandparents lived in Montana, and they had a huge backyard garden. Almost every summer Saturday was spent over at their house on the river working in the garden. We planted seeds, dug in the dirt, and pulled weeds. We harvested radishes and carrots by tugging on their leafy tops until they’d pop right out of the ground. We washed freshly picked spinach with the coldest water I’ve ever felt in old metal bins she had outside. My hands can still feel the ache of being submerged in that icy cold Montana water. We would frantically pick ripe strawberries and maybe a few raspberries before the birds had a chance to get to them. The reward was being able to partake in the harvest. Fresh strawberry shortcake, kohlrabi sliced with salt, pickled beets and dilly beans, a stalk of sour rhubarb dipped in sugar, or earthly perfection — a fresh tomato straight from the vine.

These days, I’m good at keeping flowers in pots alive, but I don’t have a garden in my yard. I’ve pinned lots of garden ideas on Pinterest and dream of growing things, but I haven’t made it a priority to really get it all figured out and in place.

One of the things I loved most when we bought our current house was the fact that there was definitely room for a garden. Our house was built in the middle of an old grapefruit grove, so I have 17 grapefruit trees in my yard. And let me tell you, friends, that is too many grapefruits. We moved to Arizona about 12 years ago, and even after all that time, I can’t get my head around when you’re supposed to plant things here (it’s not in the summer, I know that!) and every year I miss it, and I am stuck with my millions of grapefruits. And that’s ok, because I know I haven’t put the effort in to get anything else out of my yard.

When I do decide to plant my garden (it’s not if, but when!), I’m going to need help. I have some garden skills, but as I’ve said, gardening in Arizona is different than gardening in Montana. Gardening as an adult is different than helping out in a garden as a kid. I’m going to need to do some research. I’m going to need to buy some tools. I’m going to need to ask some experts. I’m lucky because one of my best friends, Jennifer, and my beloved Aunt Deb are both certified master gardeners. I know that I could call them and they’d be happy to help me. Are they going to fly to Arizona to help me pull weeds? Probably not, though they’re both so kind I think if I asked they probably would. But I can ask “what tools and supplies do I need?”, and they will show me. And they’ll show me how to use them. They’ll guide me through the process. They’ll give me advice from their education and experience, and they’ll encourage me and cheer me on.

I love to use this analogy with my clients to explain my role as a Grief Recovery Specialist.

Let’s say our life is like a garden. Each relationship we have is a different patch in our garden. (I sure hope I’m not anyone’s onion patch!) When we experience a loss whether it’s a death, a divorce, an estrangement, or something else like a job loss, a financial loss, a loss of identity or purpose, or a loss of faith, it’s like a patch in our garden is struggling.

Plants are turning brown and dying. Suddenly it’s distressing to visit that patch of the garden, so we start going there less and less. We turn our attention to other garden patches that are easier to care for. Soon, weeds start to creep in. We glance at that garden patch and see there’s so much work to do. It’s overwhelming. We don’t even know where to start. So we don’t. We need help, but we don’t know where to go for help. We just ignore it some more. And then those weeds start to creep into other areas of our garden that we thought were healthy and thriving.

This is how it goes with grief.

And it’s normal and natural for it to go this way. Experiencing a loss is painful. It’s overwhelming. We just want to move past it, but we don’t know how. So we just ignore it. And it gets more painful and more overwhelming to deal with overtime. We don’t know where to begin. No one has ever taught us how. We don’t have the tools, and to be honest, we don’t even know if there are tools to dig us out of this.

This is where the Grief Recovery Specialist comes in. Like a master gardener, I have the education and the tools to help, and I am eager to share them. We’ll go to that garden patch together. I’ll give you the tools and show you how to use them to make the process easier and more effective. We will pull weeds side by side. We’ll remove what’s brown and wilted. Together we’ll make that garden patch a place you’d like to visit again. A place where the memories are joy and not just pain. A place that’s even primed for new growth.

Of course, you can’t just pull weeds once and be done, so I’ll give you the skills and tools you need so that when weeds start to creep in again, you can clear them easily. When future losses come, as they do to all of us, you will be prepared with the tools you need and the experience to confidently navigate life’s difficulties. I will be by your side every step of the way.

Whether you’ve got a garden with a patch just beginning to wilt and cause you concern, or a garden that’s so overgrown you’ve decided to lock the gate and never again look inside, I’m here to help with your journey of grief recovery. The harvest here isn’t strawberries, but it feels like a deep breath, it’s peace, it’s joy, it’s completeness. Let’s get our gloves on and get to work. It’s going to be so worth it!