I Come to the Garden Alone, is my theme song, my personal anthem. Early morning is my favorite time of the day and strolling my garden paths alone at dawn, sipping my first cup of jasmine green tea, is the perfect start to any new day for me.
Because I’m currently in the season of medical retirement due to lupus and cancer (in remission), my long-coveted job at Baylor University for which I had worked so hard, is no longer part of my day. I instead have the luxury of waking up to one of my passions, gardening. I love the early dawn hours the best when the soil is still damp from the night’s refreshing, life-giving dew. Even when it’s cold outside in the middle of January, I bundle up in layers, put on my husband’s down hunting vest (it frees my arms to move easier), my insulated gardening gloves, a knit cap under my sun hat, and I’m ready to lose myself playing in the dirt.
Any uncertainties about whatever is giving me angst that day dissipates. My mind clears, becomes a blank slate, ready to receive fresh insights. Or maybe it’s going to be a simple non-epiphany day just losing track of time, elbow deep in verdant soil, inhaling the tangy earthiness of decomposing leaves.
I concentrate on staying in my lane for the day, shoving aside the mysteries of misunderstandings and the ridiculous mishaps of interpersonal communications. Oh, how blessed is the healing rising sunshine warming my neck and easing my thoughts as I immerse myself in today’s passion, stirring up dirt, giving my plants haircuts, or harvesting the daily bounty!
When is the last time you greeted one of your passions?
I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses, and the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses. And He walks with me and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own. And the joy we share while we tarry there, none other has ever known.