Worth the Fight

The other day, I take the initiative to follow my grandma into the backyard.  The backyard is a rare venture for me.  It is engraved in my mind as the dog-poop "minefield" where my golden retriever used to do his business.  Back then, my mom liked to joke that if Fuzzy's poop and fur were made of gold, we would have it made.  This made cleaning after him a more pleasant experience for all of us.  Though it has been a year almost to the date since he passed, I still walk across the grass conscientious of hidden treasure, simply out of habit.

Curiosity is the motivating factor for following my A Ma into the backyard this time.  Through middle and high school, my parents often talked excitedly about this-or-that tree they had planted.  Sometimes, I wondered if they were overly ambitious in their endeavors.  I am not sure whether the concept of apple-pear trees or orange-lemon trees is common knowledge, but joining one kind of branch to another to create hybrid fruits is still news to me.  Nonetheless, any initial excitement I shared with my parents for their new-found interest was lost as my middle-school self lost patience in the process.  The fruit was slow in coming, and the ones that formed were first snatched by birds.  Unfortunately, our family did not stick around long enough in New Jersey to see our apple-pear endeavor to fruition anyways.  Two or three years after our young fruit trees were planted, we left them in rainy New Jersey for hot and humid Texas in Summer 2006.  I still remember hoping that the next owner would appreciate the special fruit trees we left them.

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Passion Fruit vine

"So.... A Ma... what is this?"
I ask my grandma.


"That is Passion fruit," A Ma responds. 

 

Pause.

I am confused.  I stare at the passion fruit-looking substance.  This could not possibly exist in my backyard.  In my mind, this childhood favorite of mine only exists in the street markets of Taiwan or in the occasional grocery store for expensive prices, in which case it does not exist at all, in my world of learned frugality.  Where did this come from?  Somewhere along my seven years in Texas, I missed something.  I wanted to believe that the fruit tree one day came to existence in my backyard, that it was bought just like that not too long ago.   I needed to justify not knowing that this vine existed in the backyard.  But the vines tangled intricately around the sedentary poles showed me a different reality.

Passion Fruit flower

My A Ma's mysterious disappearances into the backyard for extended periods of time each day were beginning to stick out in my mind.   Standing next to me, she points out the passion fruit flower, one of her favorites.  It is different from any flower that I have ever seen, and it is simply magnificent.

I look over at my grandma, so small in her 4' 10" stature, yet so towering in spirit.  I make my way around the 30 sq.ft. yard with her, attentive as she tends to each plant, specifically and carefully.  She examines the leaves of each plant, stalk, and area around it.  It is obvious that she knows the garden well, telling me about each plant by name alongside their characteristics, taking me to their places in the garden.  My A Ma distinguishes one plant from another with ease.  Meanwhile, I struggle to differentiate whether I am looking at a bush or a tree.

"Haa-naa, look.  These weeds have grown quickly around these tomatoes again.  I pulled them all out  just two weeks ago," A Ma says, shaking her head in disapproval.  I look at the weeds that have grown surrounding the plants and covering the floor.  I also can not believe that they grew so quickly.  A Ma immediately stoops down and begins to pull at them.  Wanting to be of some use and of good company, I bend down with her and start tugging at the weeds. Within five minutes, I feel the need to stand up and shake out my legs.  Meanwhile, A Ma continues to pull at the weeds, clearing the ground of the unwanted soil dwellers.  I am astounded at my 74-year-old grandma, who can not only outdo a college student in fervor for life-long learning, but can also out-endure a college student at weed-pulling.  Or... maybe just me.

Sweet Pea vine

"A Ma, you care for these plants everyday?" I ask, already aware of the answer.    

 "Yes, to make sure that they get enough water, and to see how they are growing," my A Ma answers, glancing at me for a second.  

"But A Ma, how do you stand the heat in the summer?" I ask, well aware of my strong inclination towards air-conditioning.  I remind you that Texas weather is easily upwards of 95 degrees in the dead of summer.

                 
  "That's why I must get out in the early mornings or in the evenings, sometimes with Grandpa, when it is a lot cooler,"  my A Ma tells me.

I know that I should not be surprised by A Ma's undertaking.  My grandma has somehow cultivated a way of life in which she puts her whole being into everything that she does.  Whether A Ma is making food, creating fantastic-crocheting masterpieces, or learning something new, A Ma demonstrates wholeheartedness.  With people also,  A Ma is fully there.  I observe as she talks to fellow Chinese-speakers at church, in the supermarket, or at a restaurant.  They, in her presence, are priorities to her in that moment.  There is no trivial agenda that is more important than being present with the people she is with.

Perhaps, speaking louder than anything, is my grandma's wholeheartedness toward those she lives with.  As we know all too well, family can be one of the most difficult communities to live alongside.  I will be the first to admit my pigheadedness, my choosing of battles that are not worth fighting, my over-reacting in defense of a high-maintenance ego.  Selfless well-meaning acts collide with my relentless individualism, ahem, everyday.  My grandma lives an extraordinary life of continual patience and forgiveness, of laying down her life through her way of service and hospitality through every circumstance.  Though I am often blind to her love in my narcissistic ways, I praise God for moments when I can see past myself to appreciate those acts of grace and peace extended in the sharing of food and other things.  Undoubtedly, the wholeheartedness in life that A Ma demonstrates does not just happen.  I know that it comes from a lifetime of intentional care for one's soul, a cultivation of giving up of self and letting go of control, every single day.

Pomegranate (Fruit)

The magnificent garden that exists in my backyard is the outcome of hard work over great amounts of time.  It started with my parents when we moved to Texas in 2006.  After they moved to Taiwan in 2010 , my grandparents piggy-backed off their hard work and added-to the garden when they moved to Texas.  Somehow, I missed much of the process, though some of that may be due to that reality that I have spent the last three years across the country enduring stubborn winters.  Now that I am more aware of what is going on in my backyard, I like to know how A Ma takes care of the garden.  I am inspired by her diligence in stepping outside everyday, her mindfulness in recycling water into a white bucket everyday for the plants, her careful attention to the smallest details in the garden    

Grapevine

Grapes

Figs

Lemons

Rose

A Ma's steadfastness at attending to her own soul and to all things around her reminds  me that wholeness does not happen by itself.  Everything from diligence to sincerity to compassion is cultivated from daily decisions made over a lifetime.  The fight, I am finding, is in refusing to simply push aside our immaturity in fear of confronting ourselves, or trying to have our issues "fixed" immediately.  I am reminded, rather, that sustainable growth and requires steadfast attention, over time.

But somewhere along the process first, one has to decide what is worth fighting for.  In the garden, someone had to decide that passion fruit, grapes, pomegranate, figs, lemon, pear, guava, grapefruit, kumquat not to mention the dozens of vegetables -were worth the fight everyday.    Someone had to decide that the plants were worth the commitment to water daily, to guard from weeds regularly, to get beyond one's self to endure uncomfortable conditions everyday.  


Sometimes, we fight battles that aren't worth fighting.  Lets see, there is the fight for the insatiable self: the piffy arguments, comparisons and competitions that quickly consume our life. Perhaps, if we could just see past ourselves, we would find the fight for joy and peace a more worthy battle.  And then there is the inexhaustible fight for control:  the redundant clinging to hollow psuedogods we believe will somehow sustain us.  Perhaps, the fight for a single-minded love of a worthy God is a better use of our lives.  

The next time we marvel at a breath-taking jump shot, or a spine-tingling musical performance, or are in the company of lives of great diligence or profound sincerity and compassion, perhaps we will remember the discipline that has come along with it, the daily grind in the most mundane of moments, the habits of diligence and excellence established over time.    

Whatever harvest we choose to invest in, we and the people around us get to experience.  I, for one, am quite stoked that my A Ma chose passion fruit and pomegranate :)

The Caretaker resting after a day's hard work

                                                                 
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Note: My recent introduction to gardening is thanks to a brilliant sustainable-farming project for prison inmates at the Louisiana State Penitiary (Angola Prison).  The sweet caretaker who graciously gifted me the plant told me that I could not kill this "Wandering Jew" plant.  Skeptical of my ability to keep a plant alive, I nonetheless spent the next two months attempting to care for it, making sure it got indirect sunlight and water regularly.  I even re-potted it and pruned it before I handed it off to my dear friend Mary to love and care for it when I left for Texas.  I must say that the plant's persistent determination to grow has simply been a testament of God every day!  Haha, in the process, I have gotten attached to the plant, as its determination to grow a powerful reminder of the redemption and life happening within Angola Prison.        

Angola Plant (middle)

An Insightful Article on the Program in Angola:

"Food, Farming, and Freedom : Promoting a Sustainable Model of Food Justice in America's
Prisons, 2012"
http://digitalwindow.vassar.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1073&context=senior_capstone