The Flower Garden

My grandmother’s backyard was an awesome display of flowers, plants, and trees. Sitting on the back porch, viewing this garden, was an experience that no one could forget. There were lilies, tulips, gladioli, violets, roses, mums, peonies, and others that I can not name. Grandma knew all their names, including the Latin one. There were trees of apples, pears, and plums, and vines of grapes--white and purple. The smells that arose from this overwhelming collection of God’s beauties were to be treasured dearly.

Birds of all kinds were attracted. Hummingbirds sought the nectar of the bleeding hearts. Robins found the ripe cherries of summer and the worms in the rich soil. Blue jays came for the seeds that dropped in the Fall. Grandma knew all the birds too, although on occasion she would refer to a special bird book. My love for birds has its origin here.

Grandma put me to work in the Spring. There was a patch of ground dedicated to the vegetables, and I had to spade the area to prepare for planting. It was only about 15 by 25 feet, but to me it seemed like an acre. I could not focus on the future result when beans, potatoes, rhubarb, onions, peas, carrots, and tomatoes would spring forth. I was only bent on the chore of forcing the blade into the ground. After many years have passed, I can now appreciate that we are to be patient in looking for the outcome of our labors. We do not see the result immediately. We are to trust that we are ultimately only seed planters and soil tillers. God will provide the harvest.

Strangers came as well to our garden. In those days the New York Central Railroad, on its smoky way between Cleveland and Cincinnati, made a stop at our little town. Sometimes there would be men that rode the rails in the boxcars, and they somehow knew how to come to Grandma’s house. They would sit on the back porch while Grandma brought them a piece of her cherry or pumpkin pie. I never got to talk to them, and I don’t ever remember looking into their faces. But I will always remember the “Thank you, ma’am” that they expressed. Perhaps they carried the image of this garden down the rails, and their day was made a little brighter. But I have often wondered if we had entertained angels. (Hebrews 13:2)

Later I would bring my children to this garden, and they all came away changed. Oh we have become so sophisticated that no stranger feels like he can find his way to our back porch. But we can find our way to them. They are in the soup kitchens. They are on the sidewalk. They hitchhike on our highways in search of a place to work.

When we know Jesus, are we not like the flowers of the field? (Psalm 103:15). Somehow the world is meant to see that God is living within us. All the creation longs to show this. (Romans 8:22). The Garden of Eden must have been beyond description, but can we show enough of Jesus in our life so that others may want to sit with Jesus on His back porch? Although we now see dimly, I am looking forward to a clear gaze into His garden.
 

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