"I remember Sister Francis saying, 'You will say your prayers before you go to sleep, won't you?'
I nodded, but I wasn't sure I could live up to my end of the bargain. I'd been living in an orphanage for about a year and had forgotten how. I tried to remember the bedtime prayer I used to say with my father, but I couldn't. Finally I simply said, 'thank you for letting me be in this beautiful place.'"
As usual, I read this book several times over the Christmas season, but this year, instead of packing it away with my decorations, I decided to leave it out and make a study of why the book means so much to me. I have nothing in common with the nun, except a love of plants and insects. I have nothing in common with the gardener, except maybe a too-hurried lifestyle that leads to cynical thoughts and behaviors. But taken chapter by chapter, I've started to realize why this book is so important. It is about finding something that was lost. It isn't about a tree at all, although "Tree," as he is known, played a big part in helping the little girl Anna find what she had lost...her home and her love of nature, and eventually her calling as a teacher and sister. When Anna loses her satchel and the sisters tell her to ask St. Anthony for help, she promises to repay him and never forget how he helped her. When she became a nun, she took his name, in the hopes that someday she could help someone find something they had lost. As the book progresses, she indeed helps the gardener, as he rediscovers his love of nature and his appreciation for life in general. In essence, she helps him rediscover his happiness and why he loves his work. The real surprise comes at the end of the book, when it is the gardener himself, through a strange twist of events, that brings everything full circle by helping Sister Anthony find something precious that she had lost, even when she didn't realize she had lost it.
I've thought about this book a lot lately. Sometimes a person is lost without knowing it. Sometimes, a person has lost "something" without knowing it is lost. I think this happens to us more often than we realize.
Take for example the 19 years that went by between my high school graduation and the beginning of planning for my 20-year high school reunion. I was happy. I had a family, a successful career and a good life. I didn't need to go back down any of those roads. But suddenly I found myself in a planning position, gathering addresses, finding people, and talking for the first time in nearly two decades. I didn't think I needed them, but I did. They were a part of me that was lost, and through the miracle of the internet and the healing power of 20 years, we are all friends again. We are on even ground. We are who we are, and we are happy to be back in each other's lives. I didn't know what I was missing. I didn't know what was lost.
I haven't asked him, but I think my father probably feels the same way about getting back in touch with his Air Force buddies from long ago. My father served in Misawa, Japan, in the late 1950s and served with a fantastic group of people. Again, through the miracle we call the internet, they have all reconnected and in the last several years, have met for a yearly reunion, one that my father is currently helping plan for this year. I don't think he knew what he was missing until it was found again. And now there it is...every day. Messages and emails and jokes from long ago. Sitting in a hospitality room drinking Japanese beer and trading stories, stories that get bigger and better with each reunion. Lost, now found.
There are my cats, and how I've rediscovered my passion for homeless animals. There's my writing, and how after nearly 20 years of brandishing the red pen, I remembered that I had a "voice" of my own. There's my science, and how I love to educate my children in what I like to call kitchen chemistry and my new plans for a backyard Georgia habitat in some unused space outside the primary school. And then there's this whole thing with church. While I don't think I ever truly lost my way spiritually, I certainly was in a holding pattern. People talk about finding Jesus, and others will say something like, "I didn't know He was lost." He wasn't lost, but maybe I was, and making my way back to Him and realizing He was there all along, waiting for me, in spite of my flaws, in spite of my crazy ways, makes my heart sing. Some days it sings a traditional hymn and other days it sings a rock and roll song, but these days my heart is singing and singing loud.
I could go on and on about how Sister Anthony and her gardener friend have spoken to me. I could list 100 things that have happened to me that have brought me back to the person I was supposed to be.
For years, I think I have been rediscovering lost things. I am not sorry most of them were lost, because the journey to finding them again was a valuable lesson in itself. I have rediscovered lost interests, lost friends, and lost plans. I have found these things again, and found them as a newer, more mature person ready to meet the challenges. But there is something magical about finding something you did not realize you had lost.
I think I'm beginning to find it. I'm not even sure what it is, but it is becoming more clear every day. Every single day, I see circumstances and meet people that I feel were put here to lead me along the way. It is a wonderful thing to go from "existing" to "living." For quite some time, I feel like I have been existing...cleaning the house, paying the bills, working, doing what I was supposed to do and saying what I was supposed to say...and simply existing. But I wanted to LIVE, not just exist. And it is happening now, just like I wanted. Every day. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the possibilities, and other times I am overwhelmed by the thoughts that I almost didn't see it, that I could have chosen a different path, or stayed the course on a path that was not leading me anywhere.
I rarely show much emotion. Sure, I get worked up over American Idol (not this year, since I gave it up when Simon left) or sniff at a sad song, but I am rarely OVERCOME with emotion. I often don't know how to express, in a proper way, thanks or gratitude. But a few days ago, during a normal, routine day, I was overcome with this one thought.
"Thank you for letting me be in this beautiful place."
I think, simple as it is, that says it all.
