The Garden

I come to the garden alone

While the dew is still on the roses

And the voice I hear falling on my ear

The Son of God discloses.

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.

A Garden Divine

We need Him every day
so why not find a quiet place

to meet with Him

I come to the garden alone,

while the dew is still on the roses.

And the Voice I hear,

falling on my ear,

the Son of God discloses.

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.

The Beauty of the Rosebud, the Exquisiteness of the Orchid

Written in memory of my granddaughter, Zoe Claire

November 10, 1995-February 13, 1996

Today, tomorrow, and forever, I will search for life's beauty,
beholding the rosebud and the orchid. Prominent profusions of elegance,
with swirls of perfumed fragrance floating about.
Each flower has figurative and ornate expressions.
A rosebud, its petals budding forth with cherished remembrances,
An orchid, elegantly proclaiming intricate, unblemished grace.
Both adorning the corridors of my soul to arouse wondrous delight.

What an unblemished beauty Zoe was. Radiant, gorgeous, full of grace and love. She was royal. Yes, royal, and so therefore the beauty of rosebuds and exquisiteness of orchids described her as perfection.

We all have memories, most good and some devastating. But in all we can either let it build our character or break it. Allotted to me have been two of the greatest hurts that a mother and grandmother could face - the loss of a child and a grandchild. Many have said that life isn’t fair. No, it is not, but if we will hold fast, as calamity came unexpectedly, so will the day come when the absolutes of cause and reason will move aside and the beauty of loving, of having, of caring will comfort us. It won't be because we no longer hurt, but because our memories are more precious than any pain. We will find ourselves holding to faith, yet not understanding.

While living in the Bay area, there was a small valley nestled near our home with several greenhouses sprinkled around. Each grew beautiful flowers - roses, orchids, daisies, tulips, chrysanthemums, asters, dahlias, and many, many more. I loved going into their flower shops, where buds and blossoms of every size, shape and color were offered. Sometimes it was hard to pick out a bouquet to take home, or up the hill to where our granddaughter was laid to rest, or over the Bay to our son Mark's final resting place. Every time I found myself carefully scrutinizing the flowers, numbering the beauties scattered among baby breath and other inexpensive fillers. What I want was the most beauty. Never did I zero in on the fillers or ordinary flowers, and say, this is the most beautiful floral arrangement I'd ever seen. I was drawn to the predominant feature, the central attraction - for me, it is and was rosebuds and orchids.

What am I saying? Well, we must never hide the beauty of memories among fillers but focus our attention on the special blossoms grown in our life’s garden. When we pick a bouquet from the garden God plants for us, we must always choose the best flowers available. Why? Because these gardens have been sown with seeds of love, moistened with tears, and cultivated by caring hands. Please don't feel that I wish for sympathy - I do not! My garden is filled with beauty – a beauty complimented by a wonderful Savior, an absolutely precious family still with me, and two beautiful blooms that have gone on to a better place. My garden displays "The Beauty of the Rosebud, the Exquisiteness of the Orchid" - bringing forth a prominent bouquet in my life’s arrangement.

". . . array thyself with . . . beauty." Job 40:10

Pleasant Homecoming

It seems that when one gets closer to home after being gone for some time, there is a certain excitement and anticipation that comes in the last few miles. We can hardly wait. We want to get back to the comfort of our four walls, our bed, our yard, our church, and the list goes on. We had a few surprises when we returned a few days ago. Our yard had burst into blossoms. What a joy to behold! However, with it comes the weeds and the snails. Ah, the vicious circle: Plant, Water, Tend, and Reap. But that's okay, the pleasantries outweigh all the labor. Guess pulling, hoeing, watering, etc., are things to do until we head for that final trip home. It's hard to imagine what beauty is in store in our heavenly home. Just think, we are getting closer - in fact, we may be only a few miles away.

Disclaimer:

I cannot take credit for our beautiful yard, except part of its design. This is one thing my husband loves doing and tends to with a passion, along with some moderation, lots of Roundup, drip irrigation and special sprinkler systems. He doesn't want anyone to touch it, and says when he can no longer take care of it, it is time to sell. I worry because an acre of bloom is a lot, but he is a tough-old-bird as many of you know.

PS: If you look on the fence in the picture with the tree roses, there is a blue jay. He has been with us since a baby. At first, he would holler from the roof, and we would talk back (See what retirement can do. We are now spending our time talking to a bird!!!???). Well, to go on with my story, this is his second season with us, and he follows my husband around the yard, hopping along beyond him jabbering (guess telling of all the things going on in his day). He's quite a character, and wouldn't you know it, he got in one of the pictures.