After a cold, dark winter most of us revel in this change of season. And my mind turns to the garden.
Even though it is too early for most plants to poke through the frozen ground, wandering around my flower beds lets me enjoy the warmth and sun. Soon the tulips and daffodils will sneak up, and then seemingly overnight, break open the bright, cheerful blooms
The garden is a place to meditate, to be still, to listen for God’s voice, as the old hymn expresses so lyrically. Not only do the birds sing, but worms quietly go about their work of enriching the soil. Every part of the garden links so beautifully to analogies about my walk with God.
“Spring has sprung!” My dad often said that after a few nice days. Though he would be antsy to begin turning soil, preparing his fields for planting, he would spend hours in the shop repairing and maintaining the tractors and implements. And often he would be humming or singing this song as he prepared for his garden, the fields.
Not only did my grandmother love this song, she also loved her garden. Though as a child, I didn’t appreciate it, I remember the bright yellow and red rows of four o’clocks. During the winter her entry was filled with coleus potted in empty coffee cans, waiting for warmth and sun to once again be set outside.
The legacy of hymns, God’s garden-whether my grandma’s flowers or my dad’s fields-and a positive expectation of life is a treasure in my life.
Where do you picture walking with God?
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.
He speaks, and the sound of His voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing;
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing. [Refrain]
I’d stay in the garden with Him
Tho’ the night around me be falling;
But He bids me go; thro’ the voice of woe,
His voice to me is calling. [Refrain]