This morning I was sitting on my porch and just listening. I could hear the birds. There was barely a breeze, but the birds were stiring the branches in the trees. It was so quiet, and I was having a time of prayer for my neighbors, my children, my cousins, my siblings -- and not the child-like "God bless Debbie, God bless Markie," etc. Real prayer -- not that God doesn't hear even the simplest prayer like "God Bless."
And I was thinking of times past when I would sit on the front porch at home and just listen to the birds.
Then I realized I was in my garden -- my pots with herbs and flowers. There was no "dew on the roses." But I was listening for that "voice" -- that voice that tells me "I am his own." It was there. God came to me in my garden this morning. How wonderful.
I always think of my mother in her garden, and walking and talking with the Lord while in her garden -- not the opposite way around -- God walking and talking to us in our garden. And when I think of the song "In the Garden" I often cry, just because I think of my mom and her garden.
But now the song has a different meaning for me. "For he walks with me and talks with me and tells me I am his own. And the joy we share as we tarry there, None other has ever known."