Aunt Joy's Little Garden

Aunt Joy’s Little Garden was one of those special places in the neighborhood.    Stepping through the small white gate felt like entering a sanctuary for the soul. It brought delight to the eyes, ears and nose.  There was an outer row of flowers that danced on the gentle breeze.  They and the flowering vegetables in the garden were filled with bees that hummed as they went about their all-important work among the blossoms.  The aroma of warm, freshly tilled earth mixed with the soft, delicate fragrances of all the blooming plants.  It was another world that caused the soul to rest and enjoy each moment as a cherished gift.

 

This extraordinary place was the gift of a remarkable soul, Aunt Joy.  She had fully grown into her birth name, and her very presence brought the sweet fragrance of joy to those around her.  I was among the fortunate ones who were able to spend time with her when I was young.  Sitting on a little bench at the edge of her garden, she would tell us stories about herself and her “little” garden.  

 

One of my cousins asked Aunt Joy, “Did you do all this yourself?”  Aunt Joy replied, “Mostly, but a few folks have helped me, especially when I first started.  You would not have recognized this place 45 years ago.  It was just a scraggly bit of pasture that looked so sad.  I had to do something.  My sisters and brothers helped at first.  We dug up old bushes and broke the sod, one shovel full at a time.  But my sisters and brothers moved on and I stayed right here on the farm, so I just kept taking care of my little garden.”

 

Another cousin asked, “What is your favorite, the flowers, the fruits, or the vegetables?”  Aunt Joy got quiet and smiled a little bit and replied, “I suppose my favorite crop from this little garden is the harvest of contentment that I get every single day.”

 

All of us looked at one another and then at Aunt Joy.  She only smiled, so we looked back at each other and shrugged.

 

Aunt Joy went on, “Yep, I have been cultivating contentment in this little patch of dirt for 45 years and it has never failed to give a bumper crop right back.”

 

Again, we all looked at each other and shook our heads.

 

Aunt Joy, with a bemused grin, asked us, “Have you ever wanted something so bad that you did anything to have it.  And then, when you finally got, were disappointed?”

 

We all nodded. I thought about that red bike that I worked all Summer to buy and then it broke within a few weeks of riding it to school.  

 

Aunt Joy went on, “When I started the garden, I had all kinds of problems.  There were rocks everywhere and I had to dig them out by hand.  Then I had to muck out the dairy barn and mix the muck in the dirt.  We all shook with disgust. I worked hard because I knew that I would have the best tomatoes, strawberries, and melons I had ever tasted. At the end of that first year, do you know what I got from my garden?”

 

We all shook our heads. 

 

She continued, “I got rabbit food, bird food, bug food, and deer food.  I think I got to eat one tomato before the birds.  But I must tell you, that was the best tasting tomato I ever had!  I learned right there that I could either be all upset and give up on my garden, or I could enjoy that tomato and be content with what I had.  I chose to be satisfied and I have kept on choosing to be satisfied every single day.  And I have reaped a whole lot of contentment every single year.”

 

We sort of understood but we were still fuzzy about where this contentment came from.  

 

Before we could start asking a bunch of questions, Aunt Joy said, “This garden has taught me that joy is a choice, not a gift.  When we choose to have joy, we can bounce when things do not go our way.  Joy helps me see past all the ‘coulda, shoulda, and woulda’s’ in my life.  It helped me enjoy that one little tomato without being angry or upset. If I choose joy by cultivating a garden of contentment with what I have, then every single moment becomes a gift.  I don’t have to wait until Christmas or my birthday.  I get to celebrate every single day.”

 

She went on, “I can’t worry about the future or fret over the past.  Those worries and frets might keep me from ever planting anything again.  I focus on cultivating contentment and being satisfied with my best efforts.  And I also forgive myself when I fall short. “

 

“But what about all the varmints that steal your fruit?”, asked one of my cousins.  

 

Aunt joy responded, “I don’t look on it as stealing.  I am always grateful for everything that grows.  I am glad that others like it too.  I can sit here and watch the deer and the squirrels as they stop by for a bite.  I always try and plant enough for them.  The butterflies and moths, bees and other bugs do their share and deserve a nibble now that then.  My favorite are the birds when they stop by, but I watch them. They can be a bit greedy. I encourage them to move on after they have had a few bites.   But they are all part of the family.  It is their garden too.”

 

I must admit that Aunt Joy did not make much sense to a bunch of nieces and nephews who had never planted a garden.  We were all too young to understand any alternatives to greed and selfishness.  We thought everybody should be like our 9–10-year-old selves.  It never occurred to some of us that there really was a better way to live.

 

But over the years, Aunt Joy’s Garden has continued to yield a wondrous harvest in the souls of some of those kids.  Her words have taken on new meaning as we have planted “gardens” of our own in business or family life.  Some have gone on to great things, chasing great achievements.  The rest of us have lived our lives and have discovered the great gift od cultivated contentment in our own “little gardens.”

 

Thank you, Aunt Joy.  I hope you will stop by sometime while I am enjoying my own little “garden” so that I can tell you all about it.  You were right, cultivating contentment makes it a lot easier to deal with the hard stuff.  You planted your own little garden in my soul, and I think it is growing very well.