Growing the Garden

Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid, one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.

Douglas MacArthur

My youngest son is named Matthew which means 'gift of God', a definition he has lived up to.    He loves to grow things in his garden, make things with his hands, tinker, and build things out of wood.  He is genuinely interested in helping others and encourages elders to share their stories.  Family is his top priority and fathers both his son and daughter with the expectation of them growing fully into his or her true nature.

My eyes are not closed to his weaknesses, as I was there.  I lived with this son of mine and watched him face life's struggles.  It is most difficult for an individual who shelters a huge and gentle heart like he does when not everyone understands, including me.  I dearly love this shy and gentle child of mine and I deeply respect the man he has made of himself.  To say that I am proud of him would be an understatement.

As a toddler, he would wander out to our garden in his pajamas and come back in eating a dirty carrot he had rooted all by himself.  He loved to go fishing with his uncle at a very young age, as long as his sister didn't tag along, as according to him, she 'talked too much'.  He could be found making an earthy bowl out of the trunk of a fallen tree.

Spring, summer, and fall were seasons that Matthew would rather be outside than sitting in school.  He loved the earth and could spend endless hours exploring it.  Even in the winter he had a need to be outside. I would beg him to come in from the dark, to leave his snow fort as it was time for his bath and bed.  He loved being beneath the stars.

By college his love for the earth had grown into a passion.  He could track, eat berries, locate caves, and camp at any little park across the state where he could fish.  No matter where he was at sunset, he would face the sun and watch its gentle descent into the far horizon.

This gentle soul was filled with emotion for all things and his tender heart was rarely understood by those around him.  We would have in depth conversations about the many layers of life and what might be waiting beyond.  He would pick up and read most anything I would be reading, but he especially liked Ted Brown's series and Dan Millman's WAY OF THE PEACEFUL WARRIOR.

Matthew entered the professional world, made good money, acquired polish and style, and mastered responsibility which left no time for gardens, woodworking, or watching sunsets.  Eventually, his need to be connected to nature and to begin a family of his own lulled him back into a slower paced life style.

Still in a professional position, he lives in a smaller community where he can plant  both vegetable and flower gardens with his 'green thumbs', raise 70 tomato plants for habitat for humanity, research thousands of seeds and plants, learn how to make tinctures, and converse with local bee keepers. With his gifted hands and skill he has made for me a wine cabinet, rocking chair, and beautiful coffee table.  For his children, he made a high chair and a crib.  At holidays, there is always some keepsake from Matthew that was imagined in his mind and gifted straight from his heart.

On occasion, a friend will send me a cut out newspaper picture of my son being recognized.  He is way too humble to ever tell me of his accomplishments.  One thing remains certain, however.  I can still tell if he is being untruthful just by looking at him in the eyes!