Saturday, December 12, 2009

BLOG: She deserves yellow roses

I was on my way to work Friday morning, fighting my way through traffic, when my phone rang. It was hubby. "I'm angry, and I don't know what to do with that," he said. He was talking about the thing he struggles with most.

"How do you want to feel?" I asked him about the thing. "Not how do you feel? How do you want to feel?"

"I just want to be happy--about everything."

"Then act how you want to feel," I said. "You want to be happy--about everything. Act happy--about everything. And in doing so, prepare yourself to receive it--so that you're not pretending; you're just preparing."

"What do you want your garden to look like?" I continued. For some reason, a vision of a beautiful garden popped in my mind. A rainbow of colors. And sunlight. A peaceful and happy vision.

"Huh? Garden?"

"If you want roses, you have to prepare for roses," I told him. "But if you want dandelions, you have to prepare for dandelions. Oh, and if you want weeds, prepare for nothing. What do you want your garden to look like?"

He understood. And he started telling me in detail what he wanted this thing to look like. "So, that's what you need to prepare for. Prepare for those details. See them. Feel them."

When I hung up, I knew that it was time. My life is colorful. I'd say if my life were a garden, it is one filled with a magnificent arrangement of flowers growing wildly, but beautifully.

But, there is this one corner and it is filled with weeds. And I haven't dealt with that corner. It's just become the corner of guilt. And I realized, through my own words to hubby that day, that when I remember my sister, it is in that corner of my mind that I remember her.

I remember her in a cold little corner filled with weeds. After hanging up with him that morning, I envisioned her wanting to sit with me in a warm garden filled with flowers and sunlight. And laughter. And yellow roses. That's what she'd want.

So, even though it's hard and it stings, I know it's time to pull out the weeds and prepare the ground of my heart for those yellow roses. That's where she belongs.

No comments:

Post a Comment