I come from a long line of green thumbs. And even though I love to garden, I'm not very good at it.
Both my father and grandfather were talented gardeners. My grandfather, Sammie, was a mechanic by day and a gardener by night. His hands were always caked with either grease or mud. His fingers spent half the day working with hard, cold metal, and the other half digging in the soft, warm earth.
His garden stretched almost a block in little Anton, Texas. The front yard was dominated by an immense cutting garden with row-after-row of zinnias, gladiolus and black-eyed Susans. The back yard was home to a riot of roses and vegetables, a busy potting shed, and a root cellar that doubled as a tornado shelter much of the spring and summer.
Poppy, as we called him, was a simple man and a genius, too. He could see what others could not. His specialty was crossing roses. He loved the process of invention - the idea that connecting two similar things might create something entirely new. It was the same at his garage. He could see a new engine in a pile of discarded parts.
So often we miss our potential because we can’t see, touch, or smell what’s not yet here. We’re impatient when things don’t evolve as we thought they would and we quickly abandon hope. We lack confidence in our own genius and in the genius of those we love, too.
My grandfather had incredible faith in the seeds he planted, but even more so in his every nurturing act that followed. His genius began with a tiny seed; but it was his loving care and cultivation that turned those small seeds into beauty, sustenance and shade.
It is the same for our endeavors.
with joy & gratitude,
Linda Sterling Sease is a professional speaker, career coach & writer on The Power of Joy to transform companies, homes and communities. To explore how Linda can work with your organization, call 303-319-5829 or email her at Linda at SterlingSease.com.