Growing Plants…and Friendship

My dad has an amazing ability to make things grow.

As a kid, our house was always surrounded by rose bushes of all sizes and colors.  At the end of each brutal Montana winter, my dad would coax these plants back to life.  He could even cross-pollinate different varieties and come up with an entirely new rose.  He’s got a gift.  Unfortunately, this was not a gift I inherited.

I’ve killed several plants over the years.  But despite my complete ineptitude in all things plant-related, I still cling to the hope that someday I’ll be able to keep a plant alive.  So a little over a year ago, I bought a pretty house plant at a market in Beijing.  I placed it by the window and watered it once a week.  It didn’t really grow – but it didn’t die either.  Let’s say it hung on.  And then I went back to America for Christmas – completely forgetting to ask somebody to care for it in my absence.

And so…it died.  Just like all the rest.

Since that time, I’ve had every intention of replacing the plant and starting again.  But for the past two months, I’ve just had a sorry dead plant sitting in my living room.  I even brought it to my new apartment.

A couple days ago, I came home from work and found the prettiest burst of green coming from the pot.  At first, I thought that my plant had somehow been resurrected.  But after a closer look, I realized this wasn’t the case.

My ayi (cleaning lady) brought me a new plant – a healthy, cheerful, optimistic plant.  She left it for me as a surprise.

Looking at that little plant, I was so touched by her gift.  I’m not sure she had any idea how much it would mean to me.  I know that I pay her to come and clean – that’s her job.  But she goes so far beyond that.

When I hired her a few months ago, I was initially really uncomfortable with the idea of having somebody come to clean.  But I realized that it was a win-win situation for both of us – she needed the work, and I needed a clean apartment.  In the months since then, we have built a fun friendship.  She has such a sweetness about her – I love the way she sings as she sets to work.  Sometimes she brings me Chinese breads from the village, and I’ve shared some of my baking attempts with her.  Once in awhile, we see each other on the road – she on her scooter, me on foot.  Very often, she’ll insist on giving me a ride to wherever I’m going.  We can communicate pretty well together, but inevitably we still have those moments where we burst out laughing because neither of us can get our point across.

I’ve been hesitant to write this blog, mainly for the “cheese” factor of drawing a parallel between growing friendships and growing a plant.  I mean, come on.  It’s so cliché, right?  This idea has already been printed on greeting cards, embroidered on cushions in your grandma’s house, and written on those little packets of wildflower seeds that they sell at farmer’s markets.

But it’s still true – growing anything takes patience and tenderness.  And this week my ayi gave me a visible reminder of this.