Living Happily Ever After
test123

Blog Articles

Speaking of Patience…

Date: May 22, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.” (Hal Borland)

Riddle of the day: What isn’t grass, but is not quite a tree? A bush. In my world, a peony bush—to be exact.

I wrote about my peony bush several posts ago; the bush I authorized my husband to remove for its failure to bloom (because life is too short to waste time not blooming!) Later I heard from a blog reader that I may have been too hasty, a little too impatient, with my slow-to-bloom bush as peony plants can apparently take 3-4 growing seasons after transplanting to bloom again. Oops. I guess I have more to learn about patience, huh? And a realization I’d come to, too little too late, to be of worth to my garden.

However the other day I was in the corner of the Utah garden where my peony bush had failed to thrive…and there it was! Bigger than ever, with flower blossoms looking ready to burst open at any time. (I’m not sure what plant my husband removed, but clearly it wasn’t the peony bush!) It goes to show, again, that, ”A little more persistence, a little more effort, and what seemed hopeless failure may turn to glorious success.” (Elbert Hubbard)

Pink and fluffy. Beautiful to behold. Lasting.

So if you haven’t achieved your happily ever after yet, don’t abandon your quest. Hang in there, work to bloom a little longer and it will happen. I know it. My peony bush, and my own unexpected life, are proof.

Even If It’s In Flames

Date: May 3, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“That corpse you planted last year in your garden, Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?” (T.S. Eliot)

No. Not in my garden. Here’s why.

Three years ago, when I lost my life (and pretty much everything else) in the aftermath of a Ponzi scheme, I moved to Utah. Along with my four children, I brought three peony plants from my Colorado yard I had uprooted and hauled several hundred miles in orange Home Depot buckets to transplant in our new yard. I’ve written about them before: one didn’t survive the journey, one made the journey and survived the first winter only to be uprooted by my youngest in his “chop down the new fruit trees and many other thriving plants with a plastic sword” phase, and the third, and final peony, bit the dust last week.

Not totally of its own volition, I confess. I just realized we’re entering the fourth growing season in our new life and while that peony has turned green every year, it has never bloomed. So last week I finally let my husband dig it up and remove it. We’re going to try something else in its place. Why?

Because life is too short to waste time NOT blooming.

I believe life isn’t meant to simply be “endured.”  I believe, instead, that life is a garden and we’ve all been given a patch of ground to do with it, to make of our life, what we will. Admittedly, all ground is NOT created equal. Some of us have a pretty easy, carefree row to till. Some have sandy soil; some are blessed with a rainforest (which has its own challenges); some have been planted in very difficult, rocky soil. And a few of us may not even be in any soil at all–but instead, like I found myself a few years ago, thrust into a pile of the absolute worst manure I’d never imagined! But regardless of the garden, or life, you’ve been transplanted to, you’ve got to bloom. Blossom. Achieve your dreams. Burst forth into something great. Let the soil of your experiences help you grow into something better than you’d have otherwise been. No matter what happens to you.

“I advise you to say your dream is possible and then overcome all inconveniences, ignore all the hassles and take a running leap through the hoop, even if it is in flames.” (Les Brown)