The Garden That Helped Me Start Over

Some gardens nurture vegetables, while some gardens quietly nurture the soul of the gardener.

A few years ago, I found myself in one of the toughest chapters of my life. I’d lost both of my parents to organ failure and cancer. There were broken friendships and relationships, The career I had been working so hard at was taking it’s toll. And finances were strapped. It felt as though all of the plans for my future, everything my parents had wanted for me, everything I had been working so hard at... had all unraveled. Life was heavy, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure what the next step was going to be.

I wasn’t searching for a new hobby—I was just trying to find my footing again.

As I reminisced about happier times, my thoughts kept returning to gardens. I remembered my parents planting vegetables each year and the gardens at my grandparents' farm. Some of my fondest memories involved dirt under my fingernails, fresh tomatoes on the counter, and evenings spent watching things slowly grow.

I knew I couldn't return to those days, but maybe I could grow something new to help me reconnect with a happier time.

There was just one hitch: I didn’t have a yard, raised beds, or even a patio. What I had was a single apartment parking space.

So, I picked up a few cheap seed packets, grabbed some cheap dirt from Walmart, found a handful of five-gallon buckets, and began to plant.

It wasn’t much to look at, but it was enough.

Looking back, I realize I wasn’t growing a garden to become a gardener.
I was growing a garden because I needed something that needed me.

Every morning, there were seedlings to check, plants to water, leaves to inspect, and little signs of progress to celebrate. These tiny routines provided structure to otherwise uncertain days. They gave me a reason to get up each day, step outside, and believe that growth was still possible—even if I couldn’t yet envision what that growth would look like in my life.

The buckets multiplied one or two at a time, wherever I could scrounge a few more dollars. The plants grew, and little by little, so did I.

That small parking-space garden eventually blossomed into a surprisingly productive bucket garden. More importantly, it reminded me that healing often happens quietly, one ordinary day at a time, through small acts of faithfulness.

Today, we’re in a new house, and since we moved mid-spring we broke out that old bucket garden again to serve this year until we get the bigger rows and beds built.

Every time I water them, I'm reminded of where this journey began. And looking at life now - how far God has brought me from that first little parking space garden.

It's easy to believe we need the perfect setup to start something meaningful—the perfect property, the perfect tools, the perfect timing. But some of the most important things I’ve ever grown started in a parking space... in a hardware store bucket.

If you're waiting for the perfect moment to begin gardening—or to begin anything that matters to you—I hope this encourages you.

Start with what you have.

Use the space you’re in.

Take one small step today.

You never know what might grow from something as simple as a handful of seeds, a few old buckets, and the courage to begin again.