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My garden is a place where beauty, hard work, contemplation, sweat, joy, pain, rewards and failures coexist.

Much like life.

Here is my garden once I decided to let go and NOT make perfection my goal.

Plant combinations might be a bit strange (if I liked it, I bought it).

Weeds have crept in (come to find out, I like many of them).

Stopped the use of pesticides and weed killer (the wildlife loves it).

Could it be that my idea of perfection is not so perfect after all?

Imagine that.

When I step back, embrace its imperfections and gaze across the whole, I say it is good. It’s a beautiful thing.

Much like life.

The garden.

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.

The garden.


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