Lessons From My Garden

Lessons From My Garden

What the unexpected loss of a weeping cherry tree teaches me


Two years ago, we planted a stunning Snow Fountain weeping cherry tree in our front yard. Its branches were espaliered on an umbrella-type trellis, adding a very dramatic presentation to a garden with a life of its own. The tree made it through a very cold winter in 2017 and last spring, the blossoms were extraordinary.

As we began work in the garden in April, I noticed the buds that formed on the branches over the winter weren’t flowering. I sent images to the nursery where we bought the tree and was told not to worry and to wait until everything around us turns green. As I waited for the green leaves I went online. Weeping cherry trees are grafts of two, sometimes three, trees to create those gorgeous, flowering branches. I found the graft around the neck of the tree, under a cluster of branches.

Everything greened up around the neighborhood this weekend, so my husband and I headed out with clippers to check the branches. To my horror every single branch above the graft was dead.


Every. Single. Branch.


I was shaken. After cutting away the dead limbs, my husband sawed off the portion above the graft and we wrapped it in a blanket and drove it to the nursery, hoping for an emergency miracle. The news wasn’t good. We were told our weeping cherry, which we now call ‘SF,’ is not coming back in this state. Unless we attempt to graft it ourselves, the tree stump is all that’s left. I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach.

Finding it hard to identify why I felt so miserable, I recalled a phrase from Franciscan priest and author, Richard Rohr,

“How you love one thing is how you love everything.”

I never thought of the digging and weeding and dead-heading and watering as acts of love toward these living elements that surround us. Yet I follow a rhythm with bulbs and perennials and flowering trees. When I plant bulbs in the autumn I envision them resting and growing underground for months in the bitter cold, until they peek through the snow-covered ground to show themselves in full splendor. I, too, use the winter months to store up strength and develop new thoughts and ideas, and in spring I find I’m ready to present myself to the world with a fresh outlook. 

When I put seedlings in the raised beds that become our tomatoes, lettuce, strawberries, peppers, kale, and herbs after Mother’s Day, they are planted in soil that we have carefully cultivated for the best growth. Should an unexpected hail storm pass through, we have barriers and cloth to protect the tender chutes. As a result of these efforts, a myriad of vegetables and fruits fortify us throughout the summer and fall.

You can find numerous studies/articles on how gardening:

  • relieves stress
  • rests your mind
  • improves your mood
  • provides more vitality
  • impacts depression
  • staves off cognitive decline.

Even without a garden, you can immerse yourself in a natural environment by walking through a park or botanic garden, driving to the mountains, hiking or sitting by a stream.

If you’re not able to get out at the moment, bring that life indoors. In my office I’m surrounded by orchids and bromeliads, a peace plant and succulents. The air quality in this room is fairly astonishing. You know how I keep them alive? I water them. Period.

As I peer out the window and see the place where ‘SF’ once stood, my connection to all the surviving plants emerging from a long, cold, winter seems stronger than ever. Even though I don’t admit that I talk to our greenery, there is a sweet communion here.

We did move ‘SF’ – now a 6-foot tree stump – to the backyard, where we will attempt to graft it with new life.

Or maybe it will show us how it will thrive in a most unusual way.

And for the record, we replaced ‘SF’ with a Summer Storm tree lilac. The nursery landscaper assured me it will live through anything.  

Silent Rejection

Silent Rejection

The Wordless Dismissal

In the last few years, there have been a few people who decided they want nothing to do with me in any way, shape or form. And the wildest thing about these dismissals? Not a word. When you realize the person has ‘quit’ you and you try to reach out, there is no room for conversation. And you’re left wondering, what just happened? This growing phenomenon of passive-aggressive behavior, which requires no explanation, is akin to being ghosted.



The Urban Dictionary defines ghosting as, “When a person cuts off all communication with their friends or the person they’re dating with zero warning or notice before hand. This is done in hopes that the ‘ghostee’ will get the hint as opposed to simply telling the other person that he/she is no longer interested.”

Ghosting stretches beyond romantic relationships. If you want ‘out’ of any sort of connection with another person, friend, lover, family member or co-worker you can unfriend, unfollow, block, mute or put someone in your spam folder. You might ignore calls, delete messages or shred emails without reading them. Silently you can dismiss someone and become a phantom, of sorts. Except you’re still here, maybe even next door.


Trying to Re-Connect

So if you believe the relationship is valuable you might go ‘old school.’

Make a call.  No answer.

Invite the person for coffee. Silence.

Send a card. Crickets.

Your friend is making it clear she doesn’t want to re-engage. She’s just not telling you with words. Still, something inside you insists there must be another way. You convince yourself that if you send another text, leave another voicemail or send a card for a momentous event, she’ll realize you don’t want to give up. Until she gets fed up and sends your card back, with “return to sender” written on the envelope. Ouch. Message received. While the blow was wordless, the pain of rejection roars in your head and pounds in your heart. You feel a heavy weight, lodged somewhere in your chest. It hurts. 


What’s Your Role?

If you’re in the midst of this kind of sticky, icky, rejection, consider asking yourself whether you said or did something, now or in the past, that triggered your friend. This awareness will be helpful for you, because the likelihood of being able to share what you discover is slim. Since your friend won’t tell you what you’ve done, there may not be an opening to share. That means when you try to ask what you can do to make things right and move forward, he says nothing. His silence is his answer. Tempted as you may be to rinse and repeat and barrage your friend with efforts to reconcile, you’re likely to get the same result: no response.

After exhausting yourself with attempts to get back into the fold of people who’d rather not, what would it look like to leave the situation as is, without resisting or fighting or pursuing? When you choose to pause and consider what you need to move beyond the pain, you have your best chance ever to find resolution, even if it’s only in your mind.


Write About Your Loss

If you’re ready to release someone who chooses to vanish – write or journal or dictate notes to yourself. This is for you. Air out your frustrations with as many details as necessary. Put these notes aside for a few hours and then re-read what you’ve written. As you digest what you’ve written, you may come to realize your dismissal has nothing to do with you. Your friend has her own baggage to unpack


Who Loves You?

This may sound obvious, but when you’re paralyzed by the pain of silent rejection, you forget you have a circle of people you can count on. Even if it’s only one person. Bask in the love you have – and the love that is absent from this person will sting less. Ask yourself who cares about you and go to them.


Your World Is Bigger Than This Moment

Living your life based on what anyone else does will leave you with huge disappointments. This moment, even if it stretches for days or weeks or years, is a moment in time. Use movement – stand up, walk around the block, take a run, get on your bike. Physically shake off this lie that has a hold on you. The way you feel right now won’t last forever. 


You Can’t Force This

No amount of agonizing over the silence of someone who’s moved on will force her to respond. Check in with yourself. If your attempts to connect are repeatedly unsuccessful, examine what you’re carrying around. It’s not yours to carry. Set down the weight. Sometimes a friend’s rejection becomes a gift. Not everyone is meant to be in your life forever.



Forgive your friend for his reaction. He’s being exactly who he is. You are whole. While you may not be able to interact one on one, speak truth to yourself: in your head, in the car or while you’re working out. No one can stop you from extending kindness in your thoughts and prayers and meditations, and those selfless actions will lift your spirits.

As painful as it is when you are silently rejected, you have what it takes to move beyond her and reclaim who you are. Allow the one who’s pushing you out to be who she is. Embrace the reality of what she’s done. Cut the cord. Remove the hook. One day things may take a different turn and when that happens you’ll get to decide how to proceed. Or not. And should you someday discover you want to distance yourself from a friend, remember this moment. Instead of silence, use words. Sure beats ghosting.


For a robust discussion this topic, listen to our podcast: The Impact of Rejection and Alienation.

The Enemy Inside

The Enemy Inside

It’s a day of heightened security at schools throughout the Denver Metro Area after two high school students opened fire on their classmates yesterday afternoon – killing a fellow student who was days away from graduating from STEM High School Highlands Ranch. Eight classmates were injured, three are still in nearby hospitals.

While I’m pleased there’s more security for students today, I can’t escape the fear that comes to the surface with this shooting. The enemy, in the form of an 18-year old and a juvenile this time, is not an outside threat. These two young people who armed themselves, stayed up late at night to plan and scope out their intentions, took aim and fired at their own classmates were students at this school. That’s why no one thought a thing when they walked through the hallways and got ‘deep inside the school.’ They were part of the crowd. How does any school fully face this threat?

Yesterday afternoon when I heard the news, I was driving to South County in the pouring rain to meet my young grandchildren for a playdate. Because their school was in lockout, getting together took a bit longer than usual.

When my grandson saw me he ran up to me and grabbed my knees in a big hug. 
“Grandma, you’re here!” he blurted out.

I knelt down as my granddaughter wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek. 
“Do you have cupcakes?” she asked.

Cheers erupted when I lifted a box of chocolate cupcakes from the car. From that moment we talked about where we would go to get out of the rain and for a few minutes we jumped in a puddle on the sidewalk that was growing in size as a pipe overflowed. Right then and there, we were able to create a safe haven for each other.

The families at STEM High School Highlands Ranch didn’t have that luxury. They waited for hours to pick up their kids, wondering and hoping that they were safe.

This morning on my walk, I watched young children get dropped off by their parents at the bus stop and teenagers arrive at their friends’ house to carpool to high school. They are resuming their routine. I can’t help but think of my own sons, years ago in school. Or my nephews and nieces who are back in class today. Or my grandchildren, entering a school with heightened security.

The emotional waves of anger and fury that pulse through me are followed by heartbreak and sadness. I consider guns and access to guns and schools and life and lawmakers and first responders. I fear that yesterday’s deadly shooting will be dismissed and forgotten – until we hear about another shooting. In a school. Again.

And I ask myself, what can I do about the enemy that is inside?


How To Listen

Subscribe to the show with your favorite podcast app.

©2017-2019 More to Life with Faith and Lois. All rights reserved.