Seeds of change: Transitions in mothering

For the last few years, my husband has been after me to do something with the seeds in our catchall drawer. My response is always, “I am going to plant them in the spring.” But springs seem to come and go lately, and the only germinating that appears to be going on is that of new seeds in the drawer.

I have an affection for gardening and even dried these seeds myself. But a lack of follow through with planting is a sign of change for me. It is a hint that I have outgrown this activity - outgrown it because it doesn’t fit who I am anymore.

In order to be sure that something no longer fits who I am, I have to try it on at least one last time, so this past year I planted some seeds. And after I did, it became obvious that my heart wasn’t in it. How did I know? Because in prior years I would tend to my seeds with the caring heart of a new mother, and last year it felt more like a chore that I felt guilty for neglecting.

But my life has changed dramatically over the last few years. The last of my children has graduated from college and two have even married. I guess these changes have affected all aspects of my mothering nature. My affection for gardening has not diminished, but adopting from the nursery in our area has been more appealing during my transition out of motherhood. Tending to plants lovingly germinated by others brings me joy now.

I have been taking pleasure in my new freedom. So what about the seeds in my drawer? They are the physical remnants of my motherhood - they are truly seeds of change. Just tossing something so deeply poignant seems disrespectful. My lessons from motherhood and Mother Nature are within me. Acknowledging the closure of my germinating days while the joy of their memories remains deep within my heart is liberating.

It is easy to picture myself without young children of my own these days, but gardenless? I believe that my garden will continue to reflect the changes in my life, and maybe the joy of planting seeds will even return with the coming of grandchildren. Who knows?

Everything I do is meaningful and sacred, so when an activity stops bringing me joy it deserves some reflection. Sometimes the activity needs to be redefined or changed in some way, and sometimes it is time for closure. I think I’ll take my seeds and return them to Mother Nature. I plan to thank her for walking by my side as I parented because I just realized that she did. The woods near our home will provide the perfect environment for me to sprinkle my reverence to nature’s Great Mother, as well as to seek her counsel on my next adventure.

Learn more about Trish Whynot’s visionary perspective at www.TrishWhynot.com.