When I was training to become a psychologist I often felt lost trying to figure out how to be helpful—and how to channel the love and care I had for my clients in a useful way. One of the stories that I heard during that time that had the biggest impact on me was the “Violet Queen” story from the psychiatrist Milton Erikson. The story may be more legend than truth, but as I heard the story-- a client of his was very concerned about his aunt who was very depressed. The client heard that Erikson was traveling to the same town as the aunt for a lecture and the asked if Erikson would check in on her—visit—see if something more couldn’t be done.

As I was told the story—Erikson took a psychiatry resident with him on this visit. The aunt was wheelchair bound. She had once been involved in her church and community, but now she rarely left the house. The house was cluttered and dark—except for one corner: there was a shelf of African Violets. Erickson and the student sat with this woman in the dark and Erickson talked with the woman about her experience but didn’t really do a typical visit and didn’t probe her symptoms that much. But as he was leaving, he turned around and gave the woman one prescription—that she should get the dates or information of all of the births, deaths, engagements—and other life events from her church community and on those occasions, she should give them one of her African violets. She should share her love of violets with other people and not keep them all to herself.

The student Erikson brought with him on the visit was completely baffled by how he handled the meeting with the old woman. Walking away from the house, the student said, “She was completely depressed—but you didn’t ask her anything about that. You only talked to her about her plants, I don’t understand.” He had expected a lot more from the famous psychiatrist. He was waiting for the lesson for how to treat depression.

To which Erikson is said to have replied: Sometimes you just have to grow the violets.

Years later Erikson received a newspaper obituary sent by the client about his aunt— a beloved woman who graced every occasion at her church with African violets and how dearly she would be missed.

The relief I felt as I heard this story for the first time was immense. There was something so powerful and so simple about looking for the tiny seedling of love –and figuring out how to help your client grow it. How to look for the tiny seedlings in my own life—and grow them. It took problems that were so big, and seemed so insurmountable—and made them small, manageable, tangible. Rather than try to ‘fix’ what was wrong—I worked with clients to look for the violets: what could we grow? Where could they connect to something that mattered? Where could they share love?

And I think in this era of emerging from Covid—that it’s an especially important time to look for those tiny seedlings of love—to learn to grow our violets –and share our violets—and help others find and grow theirs. Look for what is small, but lovely. Look for what is seemingly insignificant in the midst of what seems messy or dark. Look for what brings a spark to someone’s eyes or energy to their conversation. You know love when you see it. It’s suddenly brighter than it was before. It’s lighter.

There’s a lot we can’t fix right now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be working to help ourselves and the world heal. That doesn’t mean we can’t make a difference. Sometimes we just need to connect with and share what we love. Sometimes you just have to grow the violets.