garden: n. a plot of ground where herbs, fruits, flowers, or vegetables are cultivated

What is on your bucket list when you enter eternity? Are you going to look for a family member or friend? Do you have unanswered questions you plan on talking about with God? Do you want to check out a neighboring galaxy or find out the names of the stars?

I am going to ask God if He will show me a rerun of creation, from the very beginning. I want to watch how everything came into existence at His word. Another request centers around the undeniable fact I am a farmer’s daughter: I want to work in the Garden of Eden. Don’t ask me why. I have no “reason.”

Meanwhile, grounded to planet earth, I am a fair-weather gardener . . . which means the weather cannot be too hot. Nor can it be too cold. I spent twenty years gardening for others and was not afforded that privilege. So I thoroughly enjoy it in my retirement.

The day was perfect weather for going out into my yard and taking some necessary actions. The strawberry beds needed cleaning out; weeds flourished in the raspberry patch; the forsythia had to be cut back before it set its blossoms for the next season. I do enjoy such mundane, thoughtless chores. I spend the time in thought, often communicating with my Heavenly Father, the true gardener.

I recently commented to a friend, “I wish my garden was weed-free and beautiful. But I never seem to get it to that point.” In my mind, it always lacks that finished, polished look I admire as I drive around the city. In my garden, weeds thrive; the lawn needs to be mowed; there’s always something begging to be taken care of. Typically, though, it represents its caretaker. I lack that finished, polished look as well.

I finished cleaning up the strawberry bed inside my gated back yard, pulling out dead leaves and weeds. Some of the plants have already begun to set blossoms. I found a jug of fertilizer concentrate left from last season, mixed it with water, and irrigated the bed. I’ll apply a top dressing of compost in a few days.

I was on a roll, so proceeded through the gate to address the side yard, where I have another strawberry bed as well as a raspberry patch. I cut back the forsythia and made note I need to do the same to my beast of a quince shrub (tree.) We had a lot of rain a couple of days ago, so weeding was super easy. In no time at all I made great progress.

When I work in the garden, I go into my own world, so I didn’t immediately notice the car that turned onto the side street had stopped along the curb beside me. I thought someone had parked to go visit my neighbor.

A young woman hopped out of the car. “I was just thinking this morning that I would love to meet you, and here you are! I drive this street a lot with my daughter, and I want you to know how much we love your garden.”

That one comment blew away my perception!

“I watch as your flowers bloom and look forward to seeing them. Thank you.”

Suddenly, the phlox that had just erupted in bloom took on new meaning. I glanced and saw the beauty of the tulips that have made a glorious show this year.

I thanked her and told her I love tending to my garden and how pleased I was that she enjoyed it too. “It shows,” she stated.

Tiffany and I exchanged names before she left. I found out she’s a nurse, a single mom to a little girl, and she loves to garden as well. I sent her home with a rose I started over the winter, with no recipient in mind. It now has a home.

I live on a street corner with two sides of my yard exposed to street traffic and passersby. Those simple logistics, however, have opened the door to meeting those in my neighborhood. They stop and visit, introducing themselves while I’m out working. They watch as the season progresses and take note of changes. This morning I realized I have met well over half a dozen neighbors who live on the side street . . . all while tending my garden beds–people I would never engage with otherwise.

Sue, who walks her dog past my yard daily, commented a while back she hadn’t seen me out yet and was hoping everything was OK. Another lady says she loves watching me in my flowers. One couple, who also walk their dog, left a gift of the makings for a soup on my front porch. Others have commented how much they enjoy seeing the beauty compared to “the way it used to be.”

I do love gardening. Since I retired almost four years ago, I’ve been able to spend time in it. Is it perfect? No, but the neighbors don’t seem to mind.

The conversation with Tiffany filled my heart. Discovering that others find joy in God’s beauty brings joy. I went back to weeding my strawberries, cognizant that my garden is God’s gift, not only to me, but others.

What a deal! I have been given my own personal Garden of Eden to tend. Its beauty has opened up the door to meet my neighbors, and they have the bonus of enjoying His handiwork as well.

I live a blessed life.

For the invisible things of Him—that is, His eternal power and Godhead—

are seen by the creation of the world; being perceived in His works,

so that they are without excuse.

                                                        Romans 1:20 _RGT