Memories in a Jar

For over 40 years I have owned a small glass jar filled with seeds from the Hollyhock Garden at my grandparent’s clapboard, post-war house in St. Paul Minnesota where they lived for almost their entire married life and a place I adored.

The seeds have been kept, like memories in a jar, which remind me of the very special place in my heart I have for my grandfather Clemens, a man of few words and a big heart.

He was often seen tending to beautiful, multi-colored flowers that bordered his tiny backyard. Immersed in taking care of them, he would pause and quietly tell me about them and include me in his hobby. I would help him cut them and bring them to my grandmother in the house.

 From the time I was a little girl until the last time I sat with him in the garden, which was during the difficult pregnancy with my son,  he would sit with me among those flowers and always seemed to know what I was thinking.

That day, he looked at me and must have seen the exhaustion of worry on my face and put his hand on my belly. He looked me straight in the eye- “this boy is going to be fine. He’s going to be beautiful, smart and strong – don’t worry” And he was right. My son is all those things.

My grandfather passed away not long after that and someone in my family, I can’t quite remember who, saved seeds from those hollyhocks that reminded us so much of him and through moves to 17 houses I have carried that jar with me.

I found it hidden away in a box a few months ago and missing my grandfather these days, I planted the seeds in my flower garden.

 I prayed they would come up. I nurtured them and tended to that soil and got a little sadder by the day that nothing was happening. I wanted to see those flowers and feel like I was going back to a time when my grandfather was alive. I wanted a sign that he was watching me and guiding me through this season of my life.

 They haven’t come up, and I don’t think they will.

It’s such a good metaphor for life and change.

Those seeds that once yielded such beautiful flowers that grew so many memories for me when my younger life was changing.

 There’s a time and purpose for everything.

Memories are wonderful and a blessing and we can keep them forever; take them out of the jars we store them in and relive those moments in our mind.

But, when we are constantly looking behind us and desperately trying to make things look like they did in earlier chapters of our life, we are missing the opportunity to move forward and enjoy the season we are in.

The hollyhocks had their season and purpose.

My time with my grandfather and carrying my second child was a season too.

I planted daisies a few weeks ago with my 6-year-old granddaughter. It’s a tradition I started with her when she was three and it never occurred to me why I chose that activity to be an annual event for the two of us.

I guess that was my sign from my grandfather.

 I will do the same with her younger sister and again with my newest granddaughter when she’s old enough.

Creating the same joy that my grandfather gave to me was a memory I took out of the jar, and I am planting those seeds in the hearts of my three granddaughters. I’m watching the flowers we plant together bloom into a core memory.

And, in every good way, those hollyhock seeds did bloom, in their own way.

 Keep blooming, friends!