“Maybe your heart is already racing and you are freaking out a little as you read this…
Maybe you don’t even know who I am.
I know who you are, and you have had a huge impact on my life; but I’ve never met you.
You’ve made me cry, you’ve made me mad…I’ve cursed you, and blessed you and accepted you.
I’ve been thankful for you, I’ve been freed because of you, my heart has been racing because of you.
I’m writing this today because, quite frankly, my period is coming and I’ve been crying all morning.
No, not about you. About all the things that I’m remembering and feeling bad about. I’m letting them go.
Maybe this will help you release something you might feel bad about. Maybe it won’t. I’m not going to judge.
I want to grow a garden full of acceptance, and love and compassion.
You have been a flower in my garden and I didn’t plant you. So today I am walking up to you to welcome you to the place you have been for the last six months, in my garden head, just to tell you that I see you there, in your place, every day. And while you have thorns, you are a beautiful reminder of what I am trying to grow.”
I was at work. I recall the email notification from Facebook; an inbox message from someone whose name I did not immediately know.
Suddenly, I realized who it was—it was her. She, whose husband I met six months prior, one drunken night in Maryland.
My heart raced, falling in step with her words as I read the first line. I knew the cat must be out of the bag; there would be no coming back from this one, no redemption for this sinner. I braced for the onslaught of insults I expected to hurl from within the message. What I didn’t expect was what did come—a voice, calling me to a garden.
The first glimpse of that garden opened a world to me, enchanted and unknown.
I started to plant my own little garden, and bit by bit it started to bloom. It’s so green now! As I care for it and watch it grow, my heart opens. I feel. I give and work happily there. I accept all kinds of weather, whatever comes—even the storms. I introduce myself to each new flower; and when I find one I didn’t plant, I welcome it home.
Source: www.elephantjournal.com- Lauren Savory