He Is In The Garden

I find Him in the garden. I see His hand at work when little seedlings push their brave heads into the light of day. I see it when I plant one little seed, about the size of my pinkie nail, and get so much zucchini that I'm ready to try to burn it in the firebowl before the plant is done producing.

I find Him in the woods, and in my own back yard. I see Him in the beautiful synchronicity of the seasons. When I learn more about the relationships between fungus, bacteria, plants, soil, sun and rain, I see His omniscience at work.

When I see the blush of a ripe nectarine, or smell the fresh basil, or feel good soil in my hands, I am reminded of His love for us. He cares for our hearts and minds and bodies. All of the nutrition we need to get well, stay well and live well, is here in the garden, and it is wrapped up in beautiful, fragrant and fascinating packages we call fruits, herbs and vegetables.

It's a quiet place, but humming with life and vibrancy. I am ever grateful to have this in my life, but it is important to know that it isn't just here. The hum of life bursting forth in the spring and the resting sigh of autumn's end are all around us. Even if all you're looking at is a potted geranium on your window sill, a pile of onions in the grocery store or a hummingbird sipping nectar at your neighbor's feeder, He is there. Showing you.

I find Him at the water when I stand, waiting, in the long stillness for a fish to bite my hook. I find Him when I hide, watchful for the deer or elk that will fill my freezer. I see His sense of humor in the duck's waddle and His playful nature in the bouncing, frolicking spring babies.

We need these things, these places, to center ourselves, feed our souls, calm our hearts and feel the love that is all around us. As I sit here typing this today, my wind chime is ringing softly and the branches of pines trees are swaying gently. The calls of geese are carried to my ear and rain clouds skitter across a leaden sky. My heart says that this is the world, breathing.

Today, we attended the memorial service for a dear and cherished friend. The service was conducted out of the order they originally planned and so it was that I found us attending a regular worship service first. It's been a long time since I attended any kind of church worship service; certainly I had not been to this church. What's more, I didn't really know any of the people in the congregation. I listened to the "worship team" offer their songs and prayers. I listened to the pastor deliver his sermon. I listened to the testimony which some of the congregation felt moved to offer.

And I watched.

And I thought a lot about how moved some of those good people were, in that moment and in that place and by those words.

I observed the way that some people leaned in to the fellowship of their fellow worshipers. People who held their hand up in that spiritual feeling. All these things, I saw. So why didn't I feel that, too? Why didn't I feel compelled to state my epistle on the wonders that have been worked in my life?

Many people find great nourishment for their souls within the walls of their church. They find friendship as well as fellowship. Maybe they find forgiveness, encouragement, redemption, peace or wisdom. Church, for them, is where they feel closest to God.

Me, I find Him in the garden.