Beloved Redbud 194/366

In 1998 when I miscarried our last possible pregnancy, I was a mess. Grieving deeply, I needed something that was living, something that would continue to grow and add beauty to my life. Something I could "tend to" but would survive if I couldn't consistently invest time and attention to it. Making the back left corner of our yard into a garden kept me sane. Digging in the dirt has its own kind of healing. We went to a dear friends farm and dug up a Redbud tree as the "anchor point". Another friend gave me orange Tiger Lilies. There are grape hyacinths planted back there. Later I transferred some Gladiolas. It is where Bill moved my cement bird bath not long before he passed unexpectedly. It's where I placed the small chime and cross that were left at his headstone. For me it is a quiet mental refuge. A gentle reminder that there is beauty in life even after loss and love doesn't die. 

I had no idea, when I chose a Redbud, that the leaves are shaped like hearts. Since it has recently been brought to my attention by one of my granddaughters bringing me a leaf as a treasure to share, the tree has become more precious. It is another example of God going before me, giving me what I need, sometimes long before I am aware of the need. The garden needs a little re-working because some original plants did not survive, but some components have a forever home there.