I sat in the garden sipping my latte and listened to the world stretch and yawn as it slowly woke up. The wind, no more than a baby’s breath, moved in off the ocean. Wrapped in the warmth of the rising sun, I gave thanks to God for another day of living. I gave thanks to God, for you, too, dear friend. May your day be blessed with light and love.
My heart and I felt our way along in the dark before dawn, down the hall and out into the garden. There we sat, smelling the coffee in the cup warming my hands, hearing the birds singing in the trees, feeling the chill of the damp fog. My heart reminded me that I am connected to everything in creation—sewn into the fabric of God.
I pulled a throw blanket up over my shoulders, curled up in the porch swing, connected to all life, and waited for the sun to rise and warm the earth.
I woke to a million diamonds flashing in the garden—small beads of last night’s fog suspended on leaf tips. The sun, already risen and making her way up to center stage, teased me for my late arrival. I smiled at her and took a seat, warming my hands on my mug of coffee. “What will we do with this sparkly day, God?”
“What do you want to do with it?” He asked.
I thought a moment. “I want to sit and enjoy the beauty you’ve created,” I answered.
“Then let’s do that,” God answered and pulled up a chair and sat down beside me.
“My to-do list can wait. I just want to be, today.”
God smiled and opened His hands, releasing a ladybug who flew and landed on my knee. Together the three of us sat, simply being, under the happy sun.
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.