Monday, May 14, 2007

Dear God,

The most gorgeous day dawned in your presence today. I stepped outside for a moment to gaze at the beautiful Iris in my contemplative garden. Purple, yellow, wine, they are exquisite, delicate, fragile. An old-fashioned flower, a remnant of my old garden.

The yard and garden have come to life once again, not unexpectedly of course, but still a surprise of sacred dimension. In the winter time all seemed dead, disinterested. But then Spring came bringing surprise after surprise. It all happened so fast. I missed some things. Flowers blossomed before I realized they are budding.

I live in a little bit of heaven. My back yard and garden look like paradise. Varying colors and textures, a variety of trees and pines. A pond with no fish. I've got to get it cleaned out and fill it up with fish, 21 to be exact, each named after a grandchild. I've got to keep them alive this winter! I'll have to add another in September making it 22.

My soul goes through seasons just like the earth in Indiana. Spring urges me toward new life. My winter tiredness is challenged to liven up and bring forth new birth. Some days I see the results of my labor. Other days I barely drag on, wanting to remain in my hibernation.

I recognize my blessedness. When I am still, silent, breathing spirit air, I see life in all its dimensions. I realize the sacred quality of life in ministry. I know I am adorned with you, dear Lord. I walk in sacred sound, listening for the divine tune. People come to me sometimes tattered and torn looking for a reason to keep going. Somewhere in the conversation the tune of heaven plays and new life begins to want to burst forth. I am blessed to see it, a living birth of spirit trust.

My days in ministry are numbered. I see them passing by, a gentle passing really. But I am still living in joy every day, leading, guiding, listening, helping, hoping, shepherding. I am not one who retires before the retirement. I am busy, way too most of the time. But I'm preparing the soil for even greater birth. I see myself as a sacred gardener tending to the plants, some strong, deeply rooted, others with tiny fingers wanting to root in fertile soil. I am weeding, sometimes painfully, clearing away the debris. I am watering, living water than brings life to everything it touches. I hover keeping away the wolves that would come to bring fear, to uproot what's been planted, plants that will bring fruit. What a beautiful work I have.

Let me live
in appreciation
always.
May gratitude
forever live
within my heart.
May my soul
always give praise.
Master,
lead this small gardener
to help create
a magnificent garden.
Just for you.

Love, Andrea