Digging

I have a tendency to be restless. I have been limited a bit lately, and feeling isolated. Technology makes me feel like I am still in on the action most days. But the days aren’t really the problem. The nights are much worse. Getting inside my own head is a calculated risk. I either find all the darkness, or I find purpose.

I was lamenting and thinking about Meir, today. I think she hangs out up there just waiting for me to complain so she can smack me with a perfectly timed reality check. She had so many “Meir-lessons”… I hear them just as she spoke them.

She told me she “had the depression. Once. Weren’t nothing good dirt and digging couldn’t get me over!

She got so mad at Pa one summer (the one immediately following his retirement), she went out and dug an entirely new flower bed in the rain.

She said she “don’t need no pills. I’ve got dirt.”

Pa vehemently disagreed, but never to her face. The only time he ever went out the front door was when she was out back digging.

Whenever a friend was feeling down or sick, she’d call them. Sometimes there was bad news, and the older she got, the more friends she lost. She spent a lot of time calling, writing notes, cooking a dish, visiting hospitals… and digging.

I never had the desire to dig and plant. But I do realize it was never about winning prizes for yard of the month. It was all about distraction.

Everybody has their own digging to do. No two people work through tough times the same way. And that’s perfectly fine.

The way Meir dealt with pain, anger, and grief was to get outside of herself, and help somebody else. Her method of distraction wasn’t always pretty. But eventually she worked it out.

Her motivation was entirely selfless. And that’s what kept her corner of the world beautiful.

Be blessed, y’all. Try to be a blessing to someone else.

 

(c) 2015