Guilt, Gratitude, and Gardening
I find myself lurking in my own garden these days.
I’m trying to find energy on the bad days, looking for some type of peace on the long days, and tending to it on my good days. My family is privileged, and by that I mean that we have enough money to survive. My husband is a disabled vet. I lost my job as soon as Washington state was affected. It’s not always easy, but we have a home, food and our health, and for that, I know I am privileged.
My garden reminds me even more so of our privilege and provides a safe place to get outside. I walk around watching winter melt away and spring buzz in and sprout up. However, even as I take in the sunshine and fresh soil, I go back and forth between guilt and gratitude.
Guilt looms because I wish I could help more. I am doing my best, and my family is making the best of staying home, but is my best really just getting to sit around with my family, laughing, playing and learning while others are out battling a storm? I feel guilty I can’t help more, guilty that people are suffering, worrying, and not getting their basic needs met. It stings to know there is no use for me out there. So, I remain in my garden.
Then the sun comes out, the bulbs start to bud, and my gratitude sets in.
I’m grateful for the gift of time. Before the world shut down, I complained about having to wake up early on a way too regular basis. The Stay Home order has allowed me and my family to slip into a comfortable rhythm and get the rest we so need. I feel closer than ever to my girls and husband. I treasure our days together, knowing that someday, life will change again.
I am grateful for birds that keep singing and plants that keep growing no matter the weather. I’m grateful for the beauty of the garden, and that I have a place of comfort and security that I can escape to.
Just when I think about going back inside, my daughter Violet asks if she could raise money to build a garden at her school, “You know, to remember this time, when The Virus (that’s how she refers to it: The Virus) was around. It would be a beautiful garden for people to sit at, you know, if they feel sad about any of it, it might make them feel better. You know because flowers smell really good and are really pretty mommy? I think it might make them feel better.”
She had the whole thing planned out: she would email her principle, she’d set up a lemonade stand to raise money once restrictions are lifted, and she asked her dad to help build it. Even her little kid self seemed to be wandering around with her own mix of guilt and gratitude. For her, it blossomed into generosity.
My guilt of not doing anything is as natural as a weed. It’s helpful when guilt serves as a reminder to help others, but it’s destructive when it gets in the way of gratitude. This is a strange time, and sometimes the best action right now is inaction. I am right where I need to be. I’m protecting my family and others from The Virus by staying at home in my garden.
Writer: Emily Fitzhugh
Emily Fitzhugh is a mom of two, holds a BA in English literature and creative writing from Seattle University, and is currently studying midwifery. She likes gardening and dancing, but not always at the same time.