POLLIWOGS FOR ALAINA

I felt like an excited parent on Christmas Eve as I lovingly spread an array of “tools” for the workshop participants across the top of a large oak table. The symbolic trinkets included feathers, stickers, stones, safety pins, pennies, and many more objects gathered from nature, a hardware store, and my home. At one end of the table, I stacked a supply of zip-top bags to serve as “tool kits.” Then, I covered it all with a large cloth so that the project would be hidden until it was time for the main activity. I stepped back and surveyed the room. Everything was in place. But was I ready?

My shaky knees warned me that I wasn’t, not fully. Normally, I feel completely relaxed at The
Wellness Community, but that night I had the jitters. Instead of coming for group support, or to take an art class or other educational program, this time I was leading a workshop. As a grateful cancer survivor, I wanted to give something back. Something meaningful. Something great.

The door opened. Everyone was arriving. Whispering a quick prayer, I asked for just that: that the event be great.

My two-hour workshop, titled “Do What Makes YOU Strong,” was designed to explore ways to tap
into inner strength, and it concluded with a lighthearted, yet purposeful, activity. Each participant
would assemble a personalized “tool kit” filled with various “tools” to take home for daily inspiration. When I looked out into the eyes of cancer patients, survivors, and their loved ones, my heart opened and my knees steadied. The two hours passed quickly.

As participants said their goodbyes and started to leave, a young woman who had been sitting quietly in the back row approached me.

“I’m Alaina. And, I’ve got to tell you what happened tonight,” she exclaimed, with her eyes big and bright. “When it was time to go to the activity table and gather items for our tool kits, I thought, “I wonder if she put a polliwog on that table. For some crazy reason, I wanted a polliwog!”

Polliwog? I thought. A tadpole?

Reading my perplexed expression, Alaina laughed and said, “Oh, not a frog. A polliwog. You know, those seeds that come from maple trees. When I was little, my two sisters and I used to open them up and put them on our noses when they were fresh and sticky.”

“Oh, helicopters!” I replied, picturing how I, too, had played with those seeds as a child.

“Yeah. When they got dry, we’d toss them in the air and watch them spin down. Sometimes we
called them whirlybirds. But usually we called them polliwogs. I don’t know why. But look, I’ve got three
of them in my tool kit!” she declared with delight, shaking her see-through baggie.

How can this be? I thought. I did not place any polliwogs on that table.

Alaina went on to explain that, nearing the activity table, she felt both excitement and apprehension, wondering, Why do I want a polliwog? What made me even think of a polliwog? “I didn’t see it at first. Looking over all the stuff, I selected a bottle of bubbles, a pine cone, and one of the prayer print-outs. And, I kept thinking, Of course there’s no polliwog on this table! But then, there it was, hardly visible, one little brown seed blending into the color of the oak table! It was lying between a puzzle piece and the pine cone I took. I was shocked. I picked it up and put it in my bag. Would you believe that, while I was returning to my
seat, two more polliwogs appeared in my tool kit?!”

How can this be? I thought again. I did not place any polliwogs on that table! Peering into Alaina’s baggie, I recognized the source of the mystery polliwogs. Still tucked in between the brown ridges of the pine cone, I saw more of them. Seeds. Even though the three boomerang-shaped seeds in Alaina’s “tool kit” came out of a pine cone and not from a maple tree, they were an answer to prayer.
And they offered guidance. And hope.

For both Alaina and me, those three seeds showing up the way they did seemed to be God saying,
I’m here and I hear you.

Remembering how she and her two sisters had played freely and joyfully, Alaina felt led, by wisdom, to be childlike and trusting again, even while facing cancer.

And I realized that it’s okay to release the habit of fretting over “being great.” Greatness Itself is always present, making things great in ways I often can’t see or even imagine. I also realized that all I have to do is prepare as best I can and then show up for presentations—for everything in life—with an open heart, a willingness to serve, and an attitude of surrender.

Alaina and the polliwogs remind me to listen carefully for the voice within, even if it seems strange or random or unnecessary. I heard that voice as I was driving away from my home, heading for the workshop. I felt an inner nudge to stop, get out of the car, and gather a collection of pine cones. There I was, stooping and slipping on the sloping ground beneath the pine trees, in order to pick up what I felt
would be an adequate supply of pine cones. I really need to be on my way to the center, I thought.

However, even though I had no idea why, I trusted that subtle inner prompting to gather those pine cones.

That simple-yet-wondrous experience with Alaina reminds me that wisdom “speaks” to us in many ways.

from
TOUCHSTONES: STORIES FOR LIVING THE TWELVE GIFTS
by Charlene Costanzo (c) 2012

LESSON FROM SEEDS

I learned that Greatness Itself is always present.