I believe there was great intentionality in choosing it as the location where man would make his entry into this world.
The perfect place to start.
He could have been placed anywhere.
A mountaintop with views of creation at every turn.
A beautiful home made of the finest materials. A mansion.
Or even a beach with the magnificent convergence of land and sea.
But it was the garden.
It is no surprise to me.
In the garden, I am allowed to be immersed and intimately involved with some of the most beautiful displays of His handiwork.
See. Touch. Smell. Hear. Even taste. An explosion of the senses.
A garden is communion.
A place where God and man join hands.
A place where peace floats in on the wing of a butterfly. The scent of a lilac. The coo of a dove.
A place where joy unfolds in the blossoming of a peony. The hatching of an egg. The sprouting of a seed.
A place of healing and growth.
He gives both to the humble and the grand.
A window box. A meadow. Or an estate.
It is a heavenly reminder of His presence and where our story began.