Soggy and sullen, the clouds hang pinned to sky, flapping in the breeze like wet laundry. A line of crows flies under them, snaking their way to the ocean cliffs. “Today feels ominous,” I whispered to God, a slight shiver moving through me.
“It’s the unknown that disturbs you, Sparrow,” He gently replied. “Come, take my hand, I’ll walk towards it with you.”
And so we set out, the two of us, hand in hand, moving towards the unknown— me far more brave and trusting with God by my side.
The small patch of earth smothered in old mulch looked forlorn there in the eastern corner of the garden. “You could make something special with it,” God said. A hungry robin flew in and scratched about, her redbreast a welcomed splash of color against the sea of brown.
“I’ll plant Nicotiana and Verbascum,” I answered.
“I look forward to seeing what you do with it,” God replied.
“I’ll do my best to make it look pretty.”
“I know you will because you are a gardener of the soil. I hope you will be a gardener of your soul, too, so that you make something special out of your life.”
The robin flew away, taking with her the color she had added. “I’ll start tending to it today—the soil and my soul,” I promised.
God smiled, a sweet grin upon His face.
Night was falling; the trees spoke to one another, their voices rising with each rustling leaf. The crickets tuned their wings and played their songs as a handful of crows flew noisily overhead, calling out the directions home, already late, and in a hurry. I laid down on the grass as God slowly covered the world with darkness. The frogs, living in secret places near the hedge, added their bass notes to the sounds of the night.
“You’re a composer,” I said to God. I closed my eyes and listened. I heard the beating of His heart, the breath escaping His lips, the sound of His love reverberating through all of creation.
“Thank you,” I said, and applauded the performance. The fog spilled over the hillside—cold and damp— and so I rose to go— but taking with me the knowledge that I am part of it all—my soul a chord in His great symphony.
The moon swung open the garden gate and came on in, taking a seat in the wicker chair. She sat there for hours while I slept—the mystery of the night unfolding around her. Just before dawn, she tapped at my window, inviting me to join her. I put on my robe and padded out to see what she wanted. There she was, in all her glory, singing to the flowers. They moved to the sound of her voice.
God reached out His hand to me, “May I have this dance?” He asked.
I giggled and took His hand. We twirled under the fading stars—a gentle breeze stirring around us. We danced our way into the new day, into the hopes and dreams nestled in my heart.
A sudden gust picked up the windchimes, crashing them into the fence. They clanged with such force that I startled. All-day the chimes rang, the wind forcing itself through the garden. It was the kind of wind that left me feeling uneasy, reminding me how chaotic life is at the moment.
A crow flew to the feeder, adjusting his wings to maintain balance as the wind blew him about. That’s what I need to do—make adjustments for these turbulent times.
“That’s right,” God said as another blast sent the trees waving about. “Set your sails to where you want to go. Let the chaos propel you to new opportunities.”
“I like that idea,” I replied. The crow turned and looked my way. “Thank you for the inspiration,” I shouted, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me over the roar of the wind. Later, after the storm had passed, I wrote down all the ways in which I can make changes to better navigate these rough times—I set my sails.