A Growing Legacy!

Posted by on May 5, 2015 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts | 2 comments

The grass shimmered with dew and the air was still cool when I gathered the rake, hoe, and a small bag of seeds and headed out to celebrate my birthday!

moss roses

Yes, you read right. I celebrate my birthday by planting things. It started about thirty years ago when we just happened to be planting our garden on my birthday. I clearly remember helping Daddy mark the rows with sticks and string, then planting corn and bean seeds every few inches. Something about putting those seeds into the ground, knowing that plants would grow, food would be created, and we would be able to eat it spoke to my soul. That may have been the first time I ever really helped plant a garden, I’m not sure.

But it wasn’t my last. I was hooked. Of course, if my birthday was in November—like my older sister—it would be harder to keep this tradition. But, May 2nd clearly lends itself to such an activity.

ClarkshouseThe seeds I planted were ones I received from a dear friend. “Mom” Clark has been an inspiration to me for over twenty years now. (See photo above for a view of their yard.) Every time I visit them I am challenged, blessed, and delighted to see the home she has built there with her husband. Not only is their house a haven, but she has a flower and vegetable garden that serves others. She has flowers that are cut and placed “just so” into jars, then taken to the shut-ins that she ministers to, or friends that need a pick-me-up. A couple of years ago she let me harvest some seeds from her cock’s comb and I have been itching to find a place to plant them. So, happy birthday to me. . . this year I did it!

Mom Clark's Garden with Cock's Comb.

Mom Clark’s Garden with Cock’s Comb.

Last week we transplanted some daffodils and peonies which Bruce’s aunt gave us. She had thinned some of hers and sent him home with a car load. We planted the daffodils between the hostas we received a couple of years ago from friends at church when they were thinning theirs. The peonies, it turns out, originally came from “Over Home”—the name of Bruce’s great-grandparents place in Polk County.

These are legacy plants.

In my kitchen I have an African violet that came from one Grandma Jones had. I also have a mother-in-laws tongue that I got from Mom. It keeps growing little babies, so I have several plants I need to give away.

We have a plant Bruce saved from his mother’s funeral and another plant his aunt gave us. If you look at all of the plants in and around this house, all but one came from someone. Even the huge Norway spruce tree beside the house was once the little Christmas tree for Bruce’s family.

Heritage. Legacy. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. It could be as small as a seed.

Which reminds me. I have some Bradley beans which I soaked overnight. I need to get them planted in the bucket on the porch. It is our insurance that we will get our seeds back in case critters eat the ones we plant in the garden. Better go do that!

Buy me now!

Buy me now!

For more stories like this one, check out my book All I Have Needed-A Legacy for Life! It makes a great mother’s day gift!


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  1. Margie Houmes

    Dear Miriam,
    This stirred my heart and brought comfort . Surrounded by the plants of those you love sounds so amazing. As I contemplate such a legacy I am reminded again of the value of precious memories we leave when Jesus calls us home. Sometimes stretching ourselves is more than a challenge but your story girds me up with new vigor to leave a lasting legacy for those I love. Thank you for sharing your life. It has brought me comfort! and understanding.