Ivies

When I was five or six years old, I began to construct a fence in my mind. On one side of that fence was a group of people and activities which I enjoyed; let’s call that the “Pro” side.

On the back side of that fence was another group, consisting of people and activities I didn’t enjoy — some of which, I even hated (mean siblings, vaccinations, scary dogs, etc.); that was the “No” side. My third-grade teacher would, for a time, come to dominate that side.

Admittedly, my psychological construction skills weren’t that refined when I was young, so the fence was low and not so sturdy. My “Pro” side often got invaded by “No”s. But failure plus persistence eventually leads to success, so my mental carpentry skills gradually improved.

As I learned to differentiate between what looked good and what really was good, my fence grew in both height and sturdiness. Oddly, when it came to categorizing people and activities, I was decisive, but when it came to my feelings about myself, I spent time on both sides of the fence.

At some point, a vine of ivy began to ascend my fence and creep along the top. I’ll call that vine “personal happiness”, and it eventually dominated all my cognitive activities. The vine ruled the fence, and by extension, my life. It was bright green with tri-clusters of leaves that turned cinnamon red, and the ivy created an itch that could never be quenched.

A Change of Seasons
In my early twenties, I met a young woman unlike any other woman I’d ever encountered before. She was definitely on the “Pro” side of the fence. She was someone I wanted to have kids with. She was someone I wanted to be faithful to. She was someone I wanted to grow old with.

Consequently, another type of ivy began to grow on my fence. It was an ivy rooted in the desire to care for that one person’s needs — to seek her happiness, security, and success, even above my own. That beautiful vine germinated and, as nature often facilitates, it sprouted three more beautiful vines. We had kids, whose needs I also felt an overwhelming desire to put above my own.

Proliferation
Before I knew it, my fence was covered with those exquisite ivies. On more than one occasion, the poison ivy of self-satisfaction re-emerged and threatened to steal the sunlight from the other ivies, but, mercifully, it lost the battle, and the beautiful ivies grew not just to cover my fence but over the top and into the “No” zone, leading to a whole new revelation. I discovered fulfillment in helping others, not via transactional relationships with people who could nourish my poison ivy in return, but with perfect strangers who had nothing to give back.

Light Out of Darkness
One sleepless night, while I was lying in the dimness of my bedroom, counting the revolutions of the ceiling fan (it was on low speed), the light blinked on in my brain. I realized that those rich, green ivies on my personal fence had not come from me at all. They had originated in the nutrient rich soil of the Creator’s flowerbed — the very same soil that provided a foundation for my fenceposts. Someone else had planted them and I had benefitted.

I realized I had absolutely nothing to offer apart from the ivies of unmerited grace and acceptance — ivies which had been freely bestowed upon my fence to begin with. I no longer had to “do” anything. All I needed was to relax and allow that which had been given to me, to extend out into other lives (though I still had to occasionally battle that persistent poison ivy). And the really cool thing: I look around and see even more impressive ivies growing on other folks’ fences.

The Cycle
I’m getting along in years and my fence has become gray and splintered from a lifetime of exposure to the elements. Suffice it to say that sometime in the next few decades, my fence will tumble and fall. Perhaps, it will even be bulldozed to make way for someone else’s fence. But no matter the means, that old fence and all the ivies on it, will end up as mulch in the flowerbed of life, just like my parents’ fences did and their parents before them.

Let’s just hope it proves to be good mulch and not full of termites.

A meeting of great minds who think alike