Courage and Strength Grow in Debbie’s Garden

My neighbor, Debbie, isn’t an ordinary person. She trains macaws to play dead, curtsy, bow, and spread their wings proudly when she tells them they’re eagles. She teaches them these things so they can perform at a small amusement park. The kids love it and that makes Debbie really happy.

She also fires up a chainsaw at the drop of a hat and trims branches from live oaks that would make a large man think twice. She wrestles palmettos, with cast iron roots, out of the ground and plants gardens that would feed small countries. Her zinnias last year were spectacular and, every time I drove by her house, I had to gawk at them. They added beauty to my day and I appreciated her for that patch of color and for showing all of us on the road what loving the earth can yield.

Up before dawn, burning brush, painting the trusses on the house, mowing her acreage, filling in ruts on our dirt road, I don’t know how she makes it until lunchtime much less dark. Especially because for over two years she’s been battling cancer.

Her enthusiasm for everything life offers is staggering. She’s interested in any subject that comes up and researches everything to a fine puree. I’m always amazed at the facts she digs up when something sparks her interest–which happens pretty much in 15 minute intervals.

When she went to Nashville for treatment this past summer, the first thing she did was volunteer to drive the shuttle for other patients and their families to and from the hospital. Needless to say, she made a lot of friends and that made her really happy. She just never gives up. Last year she was told she had to fill out the paperwork for Hospice care–her own. She laughed when she told me about it and said she asked them, “Do I have to go now?” Her delivery had us laughing so hard we were crying.

I’ve been in a major funk for a few days because of personal stuff that I simply don’t deserve to have happen to ME. The pity party has been in full swing. I left a horrible seminar this afternoon in dreary, rotten weather that matched my mood like a Coach purse matches a Lexus SUV. I returned a call to my mother who told me she’d just talked to Debbie’s aunt. Debbie was on her way to the funeral home here in town to make her own arrangements.

Talk about instant perspective. Then the tears came. Abominable sadness for this beautiful woman who lives life on life’s terms, who loves nothing more than to have her hands in dirt and always leaves something lush growing behind. Who’s happy to have a conversation with absolutely anyone–even at five in the morning. Who enjoys subs from places called Belly Busters and Bellini’s so much she said she hopes they have them in heaven. This woman who never tires of the same old, same old and never gives up.

What she had to do today seems beyond comprehension. She told her aunt to tell us we probably wouldn’t see her in the yard this weekend. She thinks she’ll take a break. First of all, I’ll believe that when I see it. Secondly, I don’t want to accept it. Watching her courage, strength and determination has taught me some lessons I’ll never forget. I may not live up to them but I’ll remember them always, just like her zinnias and the rows of corn that grew almost tall enough to reach heaven and feed the people at Belly Busters and Bellini’s.