My Father is the Gardener

 This year, after a late start,

 I am overwhelmed by the lushness of the garden.

 

More than ever

 I am aware of the layers of foliage and colour.

 

 

 So much is in a state

of becoming. . .

 

 

New delights are being formed

by the layers growing from underneath.

 

The fullness of the layers

which have sat so long in place

are pierced and pushed aside

by things I have hardly been aware was there.

 

 There are still the patches where

things haven't really come to growth of course.

 

 

There are other corners

as thick with weed

as the the rest is full of verdure.

 

There they are,

deeply rooted,

and as much part of the whole as what sits on top.

 

 

Almost in the same instant I spy them I remember,

my "Father is the gardener."
 

I remember the urgent need of clearing and pruning.

 

 

Still and all,

I guess I am changing along with the garden,

because

I find myself relaxing.
 

I can forgive the chaos, and accept it,

along with the beauty. 

 

Just the way the Father of our spirits does.

(Heb.12:9)

 

 

 

Be Blessed