Recently we have been offering workshops on self-care and compassion fatigue, 2 subjects that are really only one. (to avoid the 2nd, practice the first) But both of them DO require pausing and thinking, as well as some self-reflection and the willingness to understand that there are probably other ways to look at a person, event, or subject. (not something many folks practice in this age of everyone being a critic /being able to give everything a ‘review’) While wrapping up a workshop, I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to tell a sweet story based on what some folks saw as odd and out of place here on the Farm.
As a class was breaking up and goodbyes were being said, a new friend was chuckling because she noticed that I had some fake flowers among all the real ones in the beds and planters. It was not said in ANY kind of a critical way, she just thought it was funny, and I explained that there was a story behind those fabric blossoms.
Many of our volunteers are retired folk, as often they have more free time, and are taking it to do the things that they had put off while they were busy with work and kids, and horses often fall into that category. A volunteer who ticked all those boxes was with us for a while when she fell (not at the farm) and injured her shoulder. Her time with the horses had come to an end. She kept in touch, and was helping out at one of our workdays, making sure everyone had snacks and was drinking enough water, when she asked if it was ok if she pulled some weeds in one of my flower ‘beds’. I put that word in quotes because since moving to the farm, I had had little time to do anything that remotely resembled gardening/landscaping, even though I had quite enjoyed it when I lived in the city. At the end of the day she asked if she could come back and continue to tidy up, maybe plant some flowers, etc. YES, I replied enthusiastically, and that is how the farm came to have all the beautiful plants and flowers you see when you come to the farm.
So I guess my friends were a little surprised when they discovered the ‘fake’ flowers alongside the real, and gently teased me about it. Not only does our gardener take care of plants all spring, summer, and fall, but she changes things for all the seasons and holidays. The first Christmas she was doing this, there were Merry Christmas signs and wreaths with twinkling lights. When the time came to take them down, I happened to mention how much joy those tiny twinkling lights often gave me on some of the dark winter nights, and could she maybe leave them up a bit longer?
From that moment on, there have always been some kind of (solar-powered) twinkly lights, somewhere in the landscaping near the house. I mentioned to someone that something they did brought me joy, and they sweetly continued to do that. I can step out my door at night, perhaps to go check the horses, maybe just taking the dogs out, and I ALWAYS see tiny twinkling lights, and they always make me pause, and be grateful that someone took the time to think about me and do something she knew would make me happy.
As I told my friends the story, they too, understood all of the complex emotions of gratitude, thoughtfulness, and joy that went into my ‘fake’ flowers. There in the bright daylight they didn’t see the twinkle in the darkness, but they understood what it meant to me, and that changed their perspective.
So perhaps the next time you look at something and make a judgement, pause for a moment and wonder if maybe, just maybe there might be a different story there.