Lessons learned from garden gnomes
The garden gnomes stared at me from our cluttered carport, dirty and bored, no blooming flowers to observe or tomato vines to tickle their bellies. I was holding on to them well past their desire.
When my 16-year-old son was in preschool, he and my late mother had a hobby of finding garden gnomes in antique and thrift stores. My little boy adored the gnomes and would hop around them when playing outside or arrange them in different formations. As he grew older, his attention toward the gnomes waned and when my mom passed away in 2016, they drifted into the background of our thoughts.
This collection of mismatched gnomes stood the test of time and elements until we moved into a new home. I thought about giving them away, but they made me think of my mom, so I kept them. At this point, my older son was in third grade and even though he had fond memories of the gnomes, they were no longer the focus of his leisure time.
Three years later, we moved again and left the sweet gnomes at the old house which became a vacation rental. One day when picking up sticks in the backyard, I decided to pack the gnomes and carry them to our new house, planning to put them in the garden or at least in the yard, but the style and layout of our new house didn’t vibe with garden gnomes. Not knowing what to do with them, I put them on a ledge in our carport where the poor things were forced to stare at vehicles, sporting gear and landscape equipment.
Then one day recently I had a change of heart. I knew I was hanging on to them because they were intertwined with memories of my mom, even though it was unfair to the gnomes. Maybe there was another little boy or girl who would love them or someone who needed them to look out for their tomatoes or roses.
I put the gnomes in a box, now much older and faded than when we first adopted them, and drove them to a local thrift store. The kind gentleman who always manages the donation drop-off area came out to greet me. We had a conversation that went something like this:
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“I have some garden gnomes,” I said over my shoulder, trying to slide the large box from the backseat.
“How fun!” he said.
“They are a bit weathered. Maybe a crafty new owner can touch them up.”
“Oh, no,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “Garden gnomes are meant to be weathered.”
When I pulled away from the thrift store, I felt a heaviness. Maybe I should’ve kept the gnomes. Did I make a mistake? That man seems to think they’re wonderful. Was I too neglectful? My mom would be so disappointed. I should’ve asked my son first. Maybe he wanted to keep them. And on and on the mental spiral went.
But finally, I had to let it go. What was I going to do? Go back in there and buy the gnomes I’d just donated? I also reminded myself that it’s this train of thought that creates hoarders, and I do not want to be a hoarder. When we become emotionally attached to stuff because of the memories they hold, it’s impossible to get rid of anything. And then we carry that cluttered energy with us. As I’ve experienced from doing this before, it can weigh a soul down significantly.
Handing over the gnomes reminded me that it’s OK to release items, habits, thought patterns, that no longer align with where we are in life. Even inanimate objects are made of energy. Maybe the gnomes were salivating to give joy to someone else, but they couldn’t tell me. I don’t need to physically own the gnomes to keep the memories close to my heart. I wasn’t giving them the life they deserved.
The man at the thrift store also reminded me it’s a luxury to be weathered. It means we’re living an expansive existence. We don’t have to be touched up to be wanted. Being imperfect is what makes us special and unique. If we’re always patching over the scratches and battered parts, we become less genuine, too fabricated, fake.
Thank you, gnomes, for all you meant to us and for being patient with me. Most importantly, thank you for reminding us that it’s OK to be weathered. In fact, it’s more than OK — it’s one of life’s greatest gifts.
(Susanna Shetley is a writer, editor and digital media specialist. This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)
