Prelude
GARDENING, in one form or another, has been part of my life since childhood. My father grew field corn and watermelons and raised cows on eighty acres in South Texas, a flat land of sandy soil, fruit stands, and people living on a shoestring. As a child, I remember picking fresh vegetables with my mother, plucking a cucumber from the vine and taking an earthy bite right then and there. The wonder of pulling peanuts out of the ground with my father and the rich smell of them roasting in the oven is still fresh in my mind.
Years later, I had a large vegetable garden on our two acres nestled in the beautiful pine trees just east of Austin, Texas. Despite very sandy soil and fire ants, I grew lots of things fairly successfully. The most delicious dill pickles from my friend Ruth’s recipe was the height of my short-lived canning efforts.
I have planted something nearly everywhere I’ve lived through the years, but I’m not an expert gardener. I was certified as a Master Gardener for two years through our local chapter, but what I learned barely scratched the surface of what there is to know about gardening. The certification required a number of hours of volunteer work, which I couldn’t commit to.
Most of my knowledge and experience has been gleaned over the last twelve years as I’ve poured my time and energy into creating a prayer garden in my backyard, a space conducive to spiritual reflection and connection. It’s a garden with several seating areas surrounded by ornamentals, natives, several fountains and bird baths, and purposeful garden art.
This is the story of how the idea of a prayer garden came to me, and how a bare backyard evolved into a “sacred space” that has deepened my relationship with God. It’s a story of faith, defined as “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen”. As you will see, what was not, now is, and it started from a mind’s-eye picture with no “substance” at all.
For me, the work of gardening is rewarding, but it can also be frustrating and disappointing. Weather, pests, and diseases happen. Plants and the environment don’t conform to my expectations and ideas. But over and above reward, frustration, and disappointment, it’s healing, creative, and therapeutic. The splendor of God clearly displayed in the natural world inspires me to hold on to a higher truth. Sometimes the leaves rustling in the wind whisper things I didn’t think about before that become stories or poems. Sometimes the messages are just assimilated and tucked away as they pass through my being,
In this “tale of a prayer garden” I’ll share things I’ve learned about creating a “sacred space”, and gardening in general. You may be inspired to create by a sampling of DIY projects, mostly done on a budget with re-purposed items. “Whisperings” of stories, poetry, and ruminations born through my labors are sprinkled in to fertilize your soul, so to speak.
The prayer garden began with a vision and has become more than I ever dreamed. While my garden may not be magazine-worthy and my gardening advice is rudimentary, my experience is real and true. Through my “gardening with God” experiences, and my stories and poetry, perhaps embers lying dormant in your soul may be ignited.
What your true self longs for, what God created you for—can really happen if you reach for God and pursue what you hear. God is closer than the air we breathe. Let’s not look for him “out there” somewhere. Instead, “find a spot to be with God, and try not to talk a lot.”