The Watering Can
July 14, 2022
Some seasons are brutal. This summer qualifies. Due to a long stretch of triple-digit days, I’m doing double shifts with the watering can to keep my plants alive. The grass in our community is turning brown and the earth cracking. Parched.
If my plants could talk, I imagine they would say something like this: “I don’t normally need this much water! What’s wrong with me? I don’t feel as strong and vibrant as I used to. I need extra care to get through this!” Don’t we all? The current circumstances are the obvious cause, and yet we have a tendency to question ourselves whenever we need help. We’ve been conditioned to believe we should be able to take care of everything, to handle it when the going gets tough. We judge ourselves when we start to wilt, and we’re quite sure others are judging us as well.
The truth is, some seasons are intense, and if we don’t get enough water, air, and care, we will wither. We certainly won’t have bright blooms or juicy fruit. We may need to ask for extra water and shade. Learning to give ourselves grace and receive help from others increases our capacity for growth, humility, and compassion.
The past few years have delivered multiple crises and hardships to communities and families. In my conversations with clients, I hear stories of loss, struggle, and trauma. Some say they have never been in this position before, and they feel ashamed and deeply discouraged. Severe and unusual circumstances have knocked them off their feet. I meet them at the well, so to speak, and remind them that there is water and there is help.
We have all been through seasons that broke us open and drained us. In those times, someone showed up with a watering can - a meal, a helping hand, a listening ear. These simple gifts of grace can restore balance and hope. They perk up our wilting leaves and help us get through another day. When we reach out, seek, and ask, we open ourselves to receive and grow. This prepares us to be better givers. As our own soil is watered and softened, it becomes fertile; then in the next season, our blooms and fruits will provide nourishment to others.
Day by day, just walk, step by step. Rain will come, autumn as well. Dreams will come, time will tell. Relax, rejoice, embrace it all.
Water & Wonder,
Elisa J. Juarez