Growth - The Place Where Miracles Happen Every Day At Last!

I work feverishly days and nights on developing the workshop material.  I pour my heart and soul into the modules, trying to capture the essence of what the Gardener has been teaching me all these months. Finding myself at the deadliest dead-end of all the gardening dead-ends.  The desperate prayer. The Gardener from Outer Space.  The no-end all-inclusive contract. The manure pile. The seeds. The garden hose.

The garden hose!!!!

Consumed with all the workshop stuff, I completely forgot to water the garden. My meeting with Mrs. Flowers is scheduled in less than an hour and I think I have just enough time....  I run into the yard, dump a thousand gallons of water on the wilted plants, practically drowning them. Mud-splattered from head to clogs, I realize I won't be able to clean up before I leave.

They are all gardeners over there.  They'll understand, I assure myself, grab the print-offs of the modules and hand-outs, jump into the car and drive off.

The office building of the Place Where Miracles Happen Every Day is bigger and much more palatial than I've imagined.  And much, much cleaner, especially for a gardening hub. I give my name to the guard, telling him that Mrs. Flowers is expecting me. He eyes me suspiciously, looks over his list, double-checks the spelling of my last name, nods as if surprised to find me and finally lets me in.

Standing inside the enormous, tastefully decorated, pristine lobby in my filthy garden clothes, I feel small and extremely self-conscious.  Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all.

Just then Mrs. Flowers steps through a side door wearing a tailored suit and a beaming smile. She hesitates a moment before she extends her beautiful, smooth hand topped with long, perfectly manicured nails and vigorously shakes mine.

I take a faltering step back, overcome by an irrepressible urge to hide the deeply embedded dirt under my fingernails.