“This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.” - Archbishop Oscar Romero
A few weeks ago I planted several trays full of seeds. I watered them and waited for them to grow. With a little luck, one day they will be tomatoes and peppers, eggplant and brightly colored zinnias. It has become an annual tradition, one that began many years ago when a man I affectionally called Mr. Green Jeans lived next door.
For those of you who are not as old as I, Mr. Green Jeans was a handyman who lived next door to Captain Kangaroo, the lead character on a TV show with the same name. I loved Captain Kangaroo and his merry band of characters. Dancing Bear. Mr. Moose. Bun Rabbit, Fred and others. My Mr. Green Jeans, the neighbor next door, had an enormous garden in which he grew more flowers and vegetables than he could possibly use. Each spring I’d find him sitting at his picnic table, filling seed containers with tiny seeds and soil, preparing for his summer crops. Seeds he lovingly saved from the prior year’s bounty. A few week later he would be back again, transferring the small seedlings into six packs so they could grow strong enough to take their place in his magnificent garden.
During the summer we would meet at the fence that separates our yards. He would hand over tomatoes and zucchini, chard and fresh basil and we would chat. We’d talk about the garden, life and the San Francisco Giants. Some years the garden would flourish. There’d be more tomatoes and zucchini and peppers than he could possibly eat. Some years the tomatoes would wilt. The peppers would grow and the gophers would steal the chard. It hardly mattered. Although he was disappointed, the next spring he’d be back at the picnic table, ready to begin again.
I’ve been thinking lately about hope. A number of years ago, when I was a youngish social worker, one of my mentors told me that one of the most important things we could do for our clients was to hold hope. When the path ahead is dark, and they cannot see the light, it was our job to hold the hope for them, until they could hold it for themselves.
Things don’t always work. The best laid plans fail. Each morning I go out and peek at my seeds. Some sprout. Others do not. I grow discouraged and then, as if by magic, one day a new shoot appears.
It isn’t easy. We are human, after all. We struggle. We lose faith. We worry that the sadness we feel will go on forever.
I’ll admit it. I’ve felt discouraged. Somedays I wake up filled with grief. Sometimes the clouds overwhelm me and I do not see the light ahead. Some days are better than others, but on those days when hope seems far away, I am grateful for the Mr. Green Jeans among us, for the ones that hold hope. That remind us that better days are coming. That the seeds we plant will grow.
That high above even the cloudiest sky, the sun continues to shine.
