In the Garden
“I come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses…”
I have always loved flowers. In fact, when I was eighteen years old I wrote this on my bucket list:
To someday have a garden.
It was easy to write down as an ambition, but in reality, I lived in a dorm room so having a garden was out of the question. It would take several years to finally have a plot of land I could call my own. Yet by that time I was having babies, so planting a garden was attention away from my little ones.
I am finally at a time in my life when I could have a garden, but I still don’t have one.
I know that you have to till the ground. I know you have to plant the seeds. I know that sun, rain, and time work together for these seeds to grow. All of these things are great until we have to talk about the weeds.
Weeds are prickly, itchy, and hard to pull out. Out in the country where I live, dandelions can grow two feet tall. One afternoon in late spring, I was trying to rid my lawn of about fifty enormous dandelions. I twisted and pulled until I had a huge heap of them to throw away. The job was challenging and rewarding as the heap grew. Unfortunately, in the middle of the night, I woke up to ARMS ON FIRE!. No matter how I tried to get comfortable my arms were screaming: We hate weeds! After getting a pain reliever from the cupboard and calling out to the Heavens for healing I finally fell back to sleep.
I don’t like getting lost in the weeds. I don’t like the pesky bugs, or the summer heat so I don’t invest time in a garden. But two years ago I planted a rose bush. Without much work, this bush is thriving. I love its red rosebuds blooming even after the autumn frost. A few days ago I snipped off several gorgeous flowers only to realize thorns run all the way up to the stem. With careful hands, I put the roses in a vase. They are beautiful to look at but must be handled with care.
I don’t know if I will ever have a garden, but I do love my rose bush. As I hum the old hymn, In the Garden, I think of Jesus the great Gardener of our hearts. How special the way God walks with us and tends to our hearts if we will let him. I am grateful for the weeds He has pulled out so that I could be free of their strangling influence on my thoughts. He shines over me like the sweetest sunrise. He looks over the seeds of my prayers and causes them to germinate and grow even after I have forgotten about them. With care, He tends to the good things budding in my life all the while He is aware of the thorns of my fallen nature.
Jesus our Savior is the faithful Gardener.
I am a list maker. I am quick to make lists of things I hope to accomplish and dreams I hope will be fulfilled. My problem is I don’t always take into account the work to accomplish my goals. I guess I want to perform as little work as possible to gain the greatest rewards. I want beauty without sacrifice. Unlike me, Jesus showed us His pure love by laying down His life to give us the precious gift: forgiveness of sin. To me, the even greater gift is the way He transforms the soil of my heart and mind with His skillful hands.
“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”
Who knows this might be the year for a garden. I have time to plan for next spring, but in the meantime, I want to invite God to do some cultivation inside of me. As we are approaching the holidays I don’t want to lose focus on the real meaning of Thanksgiving and celebrating the birth of Jesus. As I look at my to-do list, I am already feeling my heart rate increase with anxiety…
After taking a deep breath, I’m allowing time for the old sweet melody to remind me yet again:
“And He walks with me
And He talks with me
And He tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known...”