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The sun had already climbed over the treetops when I got to the garden. The birds were busy heralding the new day, their songs filling the air with joy. I tugged on my gloves, eager to tend to the growing plants. “Good morning, tomatoes. Good morning squash. It’s a fine day, isn’t it, peppers?” I greeted them.

As I pruned the tomatoes, I thought back to all the mornings I struggled to get out of bed, my head thick and swollen from the bottle of wine I had drunk the night before. “Those were hard times, God,” I whispered. “I was so lost and confused.”

God knelt next to me. “I know. It broke my heart to watch you floundering.” He put His hand on my shoulder.

“Thank you for helping me get sober,” I said. “Every day is a good day when I am sober.”

“Keep turning your life over to my care, and you’ll always have good days.” God patted me on the back reassuringly.

“God, help my brothers and sisters who are still imprisoned in addiction,” I asked Him.

“Of course. I’m always here for them.”

“I know you are. Thank you. And thank you for my eleven years of not needing a drink, eleven years of peace and serenity.”

“You missed a sucker.” God smiled and pointed to the little branch growing in one of the elbows of my Cherokee Purple tomato bushes.

I laughed. “Thanks, Big Guy!” I thought for a moment, then said, “Thank you for pruning me, so I could grow and bear good fruit.”

God tousled my hair and smiled. “You’re most welcome, Sparrow,” He said, His voice full of love for His child who was once lost, but now found.

 

 

 

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