‘Tis the season for getting on my knees, pulling on the garden gloves and planting this year’s crop of flowers. Like Monet, I must always have flowers. Most of my plantings are perennials which cheer me each year when they survive the winter and poke through the mulch. But sometimes, I plant a few annuals – the violas and pansies, the bright orange marigolds and the colorful zinnias.
My idea of heaven is my own little cottage, surrounded by a garden. No dandelions grow there and no chickweeds; just a plethora – carefully designed by God – of my favorite plants. A prayer bench or two and some funky yard art, maybe a plaster garden angel and lots of wildflowers.
I’ve often wondered what it must have been like for Adam and Eve to live in the Garden of Eden – before they chose to sin. To walk and to talk with God every day in the midst of the beauty He had created. I can’t imagine anything more wonderful.
In fact, when stress or trials attempt to steal my joy, I just close my eyes and imagine God and me in my garden. He puts his arm around me, and I thank Him for Jesus. Never once do I mention anything that I’m struggling with. The garden is just for being – for walking with God and conversing with the Lover of my soul. My garden is for worship and enjoyment.
As I work in my earthly plots, I imagine the beauty they will bring and the joy I will feel as the various colors and textures grow and spread. But I also think about the eternity to come, my heavenly cottage surrounded by a garden, filled with the glory of God.
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