Friday, August 26, 2016

Dear God,

The garden continues to speak with the language of your spirit.  It tells stories of yesterday and produces fruit for tomorrow.

As we dug into the sandy soil, we found more and more old roots.  We tugged and pulled, ripping out what roots we could.  As we picked at the smaller roots and sifted the dirt for stones and other debris, we came upon a shiny blue cat's eye marble.  Down the fence row while working we found another, a green one this time, then a light blue until we had plucked out nine colorful marbles.  As I held them in my hands, I heard children from long ago laughing and playing games with those old marbles.

I have dug up a lot of old things from the garden, a Danish coin, a rusty old child's stove, rope, medicine bottles, plastic soldier, a broken dish from a hotel from the 1940's and so much more.  They tell me their story and I sense the history of this old property.  I realize the land belongs to itself, no one really possesses it.  It is yours.  You allow each generation to come, tarry for a while, make a contribution and then pass it on.  Although many voices have told their brief stories, your voice is the only one that truly remains here.

Holy God,
how blessed
we are
to partake
in your history.
Thank you
for the language
of faith
that speaks profoundly
whenever we stop
to listen.
Thank you
for the blessing
of speaking today.

Love, Andrea