Busy garden days lead to tired, aching bodies. Transplanting plants for the second time in six months wouldn’t be so bad, IF one already had gardens in which to plop them. Of course, it was a lot different when I was 35 instead of almost 65. And yet –
And yet……there is nothing I’d rather do than take a space of land and create 3-dimensional mess of colors, textures and shapes. My own gallery – open to the world – and face upturned – “Did I do good?” “Do you like this one?”
It takes a little longer. Buckets of dirt that were easier to lift 3 years ago, need a little wheelbarrow or shovel help now. Hubby likes the tractor even better since it digs a hole a whole lot faster with a lot less effort.
Mound a small hill here.
A triangle shape there.
Some weird curvy shape in the corner.
Daddy used to say church for him was out on the lake in his little boat. He said it was where he felt closest to God. It has always been the garden for me. From Grandma Mac, who taught me the sweetness found in a weed, to my parents who let me walk in their footsteps as they planted a large garden space below their 3 acres of Christmas trees, I have found I like having dirt in between my toes and crusted in the crevices of my old bumpy fingers.
“If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the good things of the land . . .” — Isaiah 1:19
Life is good at our Eli Covenant house. It is being shaped. The driveway is being reclaimed and restructured. A new deck planned and etched out in our minds so that the front of the house is more inviting to those who visit. 3 months of letting the house speak to us of what it knows – what its Creator spoke to it so long ago. So we begin to carve its name into the palm of our hands just as Our Father has carved our names into His hand.
My Granddaughter said it best on Easter Sunday. “Love is love.”
So with that, I think I will take this ol’ body off to bed. Time to reflect on the little miracles of the day and the big miracles that I probably missed observing but were happening all around me. And tomorrow – “I will walk through 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…”