Voices from a Garden

Dear Mom,

Remember how scared and anxious, I felt the day before I took off to study at Oxford? Being almost twice the age of the other students, I wondered if I’d fit in. My undergraduate studies, years ago, had been done locally. Commuting was familiar, not dorm living with strangers across the sea. I worried how your college age granddaughter and my husband would manage without me. Of course, what college age girl wouldn’t mind not having a nagging mom around for the summer. What was I thinking?

Anyway, you have no idea what it meant to me for you to drop by that afternoon to wish me a good trip. As soon as you came through the door, I became your little girl again. All my worries unloaded onto you. I needed you to remind me how easily I made new friends and how my years of teaching could be shared with younger colleagues. You insisted that I would be gobbling up new ideas to bring back to enrich my teaching. In fact, you counted on me to bring back many exciting stories of my experiences at Oxford.

The next day, after drying my tears for the last time, I thought about your advice and readied myself for a grand adventure. Once in England, the days flew by with writing, discussing, performing, and living with a diverse group of people with a myriad of ideas. We fast became a community and then a family.

But mom, the most meaningful part of my experience came about as I walked through the gardens of Oxford. Not only were they magnificent, but to my surprise they offered a gift. As I inhaled the scents and enjoyed the beauty of the gardens, a source of values stemming from you became increasingly visible. Different areas of the garden seemed to echo your philosophies. The first time I realized this gift was on an afternoon walk. I came across a beautiful garnet rose bush studded with flowers in different stages of blooming. Some were just budding, some partially opened, some in full bloom while others withered on the vine. You often told me that all stages of life have something to offer. I could hear your voice, "Never look upon those that have lost their beauty, with pity or sorrow, but look upon them with respect to their contributions to your world. "As I got closer to the bush, I noticed a brightly hued carpet created from the petals of spent roses. Although, fallen from the bush, they still added to beauty to their surroundings.

Rambling further down the path, I spied a yellow daisy standing out among a group of purple asters. Echoing in my head, I heard your words. "Seek and respect distinction in others, never reject one that seems different. For with rejection comes the loss of a possible enriching experience." I thought about the many new friends and colleagues of different races, ethnicity and religions I had acquired since coming to Oxford. My world had already begun to expand. As I continued to the far corner of the garden, a patch of flowers consisting of a variety of sizes, species and colors caught my eye. The uniqueness of each flower when put together painted a scene of unsurpassable beauty. Your lessons on relishing variety and enjoying diversity in life all but jumped out at me. It brought to mind your adage about how variety is the spice of life. You always taught me that beauty lies deep inside and can be brought forth in anything with proper nurturing. As I watched the gardener carefully prune and tend to each flower, it reminded me how that philosophy proved useful when encouraging my students to excel or when inspiring a friend to try something new.

Each garden I wandered through seemed to demonstrate another "Momism." One afternoon, I observed a vine with deep purple flowers bursting through a stone wall. That vine brought to mind your advice for solving problems. You always stressed to me how obstacles may be strewn along life’s journey interrupting and perhaps changing one’s path. The way to meet those challenges was to be flexible, adaptable and not afraid to modify. Your words sprung forth as I marveled at the vine as it seemed to explode out of that rock.

Amazed at what I had received from the garden, I took one last after dinner stroll the night before I was to fly back home. Taking a new path, I beheld a gigantic tree reaching for the sky. Its many branches were dressed in full leaf. The tree’s roots, large, thick and above the ground spread out like giant fingers in all directions from the tree. Obviously, the tree’s strong roots provided the security and the foundation needed to support those many branches. As I stared at the vision of that tree, I thought of you.

Thank you mom, for providing roots that have enabled me to be strong, stand tall and experience my life to the fullest. And in the future, when I amble through a garden, I‘ll not only see the beauty of the flowers, but I will understand the beauty of the life you have given me.

With all my love,
Diane

Editor’s box:
Diane Ambur – her work work has been published in Lollipops Magazine, Nature Friend, KidVisions, Dragonfly Spirit, ARTSEDGE, (a Kennedy Center web-site for educators) VSA’s, Start with the Arts Activity Book, Stories for Children Magazine, International Family Magazine and curriculum for World Peace Passport.