Out In The Garden

"Beauty surrounds us, but usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it." 

~Rumi~

I hadn't planned on anything grand, it was a fleeting effort at best, a virgin attempt at gardening. My mother was a gardener, my brother grows flowers that speak lovely. My sister-in-law received the gift, so did my sister. When I tossed a few bulbs into an over-sized pot, whispered help, please, thank you, and gave my husband the job of master fertilizer, I waited semi-patiently for the unknown. Mostly.

I practiced talking to the plant, studied every inch of new growth as if constant vigilance and  one-sided conversation provided five-star health insurance for this novice experiment. In recent years back issues have forced me to work in the yard waist-level up. Our God is quite creative in helping the weak, and ever so gentle in the grumbling moments, tenderly rerouting the focus back toward the light, to the present, to the unspeakable beautiful.

A quote I read years ago still sits with me like an old friend who knows all your secrets, and this friend doesn't squirm and look around for an escape route once your soul is lying on the hot concrete.

Trust the unknown, it's the only thing that truly cares about you, it said. On that day when I plopped those bulbs into fresh nurturing soil, with weak trust muscles and eyes looking down instead of up, God had already began the wondrous work out in the garden. He really likes to help, and He is super good at surprises.

I think I would have liked Rumi. For one day recently in a breathless summer moment, I felt the thunderous roar of heaven clap happy under my feet as I stepped out into the garden. One of the blooms opened to its full glory, and the slight morning breeze brushed lightly across my cheeks. My gaze, it swept across the yard for full measure, taking in the splashes of color sitting pretty here and there and everywhere. I breathed it in, this fresh dose of delicious joy. You are a gardener.