The Care-Giver’s Life

When the Care-Giver’s son was in pre-school, maybe three years old, for Mother’s Day the teachers helped the children paint a terra-cotta pot and plant a single Golden Pothos leaf in the fresh dirt.  The Care-Giver was never one much for keeping plants alive; it’s amazing she kept children, and at times a dog, alive over the years.  Plants don’t stand a chance in the Care-Giver’s world. This is a known truth.

But the Care-Giver’s son proudly gifted her his hand-painted creation with that single little leaf growing happily in the soil.  Good mom that she was, she displayed it prominantly on the side of the kitchen sink.  That little leaf in that painted pot has moved with the Care-Giver’s family at least four times over the years, each time finding it’s new home on the edge of the new kitchen sink.

The plant has actually survived, in spite of the Care-Giver inflicting near-death experiences on it.  There have been a few times over the years when the single little leaf was dying a slow death, but lo and behold, just before it would fall off the stem, a new single little leaf would emerge from the dirt.  It was amazing to watch.  Somewhere deep beneath the top of the soil, there was a root system that could not be seen, that was determined to let the world know that the plant was alive.  Death would not come to the little plant that day.  It had struggled and forced itself anew to the surface; into the light, into the air. The new little leaf as determined as the last.

The little plant and the Care-Giver went through this near-death cycle several times over the years, each time only one new leaf emerging.  But the Care-Giver always wondered why the little plant wasn’t thriving.  After all, she’d seen these plants in other places, and they were full, and green, and thick, and the tendrels were long and full of leaves.  But this little plant, this determined little gem, was always just one single leaf.  Why wouldn’t this plant grow to it’s full potential?  What was she doing wrong? She kept it watered, put fresh soil in it, kept it in a happy, stable, controlled environment, and yet it would not thrive.  It would not die – it seemed to refuse to die – but it also would not thrive and fulfill it’s potential beauty.

Until one day.  One day, after the little plant was moved to a new home yet again, and the kitchen sink edge was no longer a suitable place. The little plant was banished to the back porch. Certainly death would come to the little plant now.

It is a lovely back porch; fully screened, beautiful indirect sunlight, fresh air.  But with the little plant not being on the edge of the sink, where it could be constantly watched, and it’s environment controlled, there was a greater risk for death.  A greater risk for complete destruction, as there was a greater risk of neglect from it’s Care-Giver.

And then it happened. As if it happened over night.  Seemed as though it was in an instant.  The little plant, that single little leaf, became a fully lengthened tendrel with many leaves draping on it.  How did this happen? When did this happen?  The Care-Giver wasn’t watching, and it flourished.  The roots of that little plant were given a freedom they had never had before, and they thrived.  They were nourished with fresh air and sunlight. Oh, the sunlight.  The occasional rain shower, the occasional watering by it’s Care-Giver, and the little leaf turned into a beautiful, thriving, deeply colored plant.  No longer dying to stay alive, after fifteen years the little leaf had been set free.  It had been placed in an environment where it’s full potential could be reached. It’s Care-Giver had no idea.

But the little leaf knew.  That one little leaf, growing from those deep roots, knew not to give up.  It knew it had to reach for the air and sun and rain.  It knew that if it survived, it’s Care-Giver would continue to help it along as best she could. Even if it was all wrong.  Even if what she was doing, in her best efforts and intentions, was wrong for the plant, the little plant refused to give up.  Deep in it’s roots it knew there was more.  It knew, if it just held on long enough, it would find more. More sunlight, more rain, more air – more life. And when the Care-Giver gave up control, the plant found that life.

So also the Care-Giver.