Hello 40
Today I am 40. May 17, 2018. Four decades behind me and a fresh one before me. Thank you God for all I've come through and the road ahead.
Yesterday after my four-mile morning run, I began to pick up sticks and leaves from our yard. It's an activity I didn't understand before my mid-thirties. My Mother used to spend hours in the yard with my Dad working along side the yard men. Then as she lived with the prison of Alzheimer's she found solace outside side, slowly picking up sticks and making a difference in the beauty of her lawn. My Dad still happily spends all day Saturday after a busy work week caring for his yard at 76.
Slowly walking to look for fallen pieces partially submerged in the grass. Pausing to bend down and retrieve them. Then repeating until your hands are full of broken sticks, twigs and leaves from the tall trees around you. You're part of the Earth and tending to your borrowed property.
Diagonally left across the street from our previous home, there lived an older woman. Henriette was a widow; the elder on the block. She was probably mid 80s and lived alone. She drove an old champagne colored Honda Accord and took meticulous care of her lawn.
I watched her from my window across the street and learned how to slice open a potting soil bag stood upright on it's bottom seam. You can roll down the opened bag edges as you use dirt and conveniently get to the next scoop of soil. Then easily unroll the edges for storing of whatever soil you haven't used or turn the empty bag into a receptacle for trash pickup. So simple and refined, yet I needed to learn this from her. The art of pausing to watch and learn from the humans around you. (My own romantic twist on appreciating voyeurism. During my early 20's living in San Francisco, I would walk slowly through the city and enjoy peering into the windows of the different homes snug up next to one another, open windows showing their cared for interiors. Versus the years of my youth in Houston, driving fast on highways and busy streets. Ignoring the blurs rushing past you.)
Henriette would also spread an old sheet out under the bush she was pruning to simplify cleanup of branch trimmings and catch the precisely picked off dead flower blooms of her azaleas. Once those pink and white flowers die, the dead, brown blooms take away beauty from the fresh, green foliage. Henriette knew this, and now so do I.
I still haven't tried the sheet technique, but I'm sure I will one day. Her son would fly up every couple of weeks from Dallas and join her in this beautifying ritual. What a good son. It's really the simple things that can show so much love.
After I left my fast-paced advertising job to be a stay-at-home mother, wife and seeker of mental peace and health, I began spending hours outside pruning and keeping our yard. I find pulling weeds therapeutic. Sometimes I listen to audio books or podcasts, but mostly I just listen to the sounds around me and give myself time to think... or not think.
Outside gives you mental space to breathe, slow down and join the natural rhythms of the Earth and ultimately God. At least I have found that true for myself. And I'm pretty sure my Mother would have agreed with me, had we gotten to talk about this shared appreciation of picking up sticks.
May I remember this for my new decade and decades beyond like my Dad and Henriette. May I enjoy each day of my 40's with mindful actions and create space to think, write and love each human placed in my life, but keep myself at the top of that tender care pyramid. It's so easy to cast myself aside and put self care off last to tend to all the humans around me.
May I have a strong backside and a soft frontside. Strong and protecting from life's hardness, but open and welcoming to good. Providing comfort and empathy. Kindness always.
May I keep healing and growing. Learning and sharing.
May I write my dreams and share my future. May I always feel safe and free to create my heart.
Thank you Henriette for sharing your wise yard working with our block. Thank you, Mama, for bringing me into this world. Thank you David, Lola, Ollie, Charlotte and Emma for filling my heart with more love than I knew possible. Cheers to a new trip around the sun and cherishing every moment of this beautiful life with you.
Lotsa love,
Leah
p.s. Ollie gave Dave $20 last night, "Dad, can you go buy mom donuts in the morning for her birthday from me?" What a thoughtful gift from my son at 11. I have a pretty good feeling he'll help me spread out the old sheet to pick and prune the bushes one day, even if he begrudgingly helps me pick up sticks today. Thump goes my heart.
