Thursday, May 11, 2006

I Come to the Garden

Come to the Garden
From my mother's journal

I come to the garden. . .
early, fresh with life & dew.

I come to the garden,
what better place
to find God.

It is quiet,
it is still,
yet very much alive.

Here I can meet
with my God.

Here He teaches me
important truths through
the symbolism
of His creative hand
and word.

He spoke. . .
and all this was.

I come to the garden
because it is quiet.

It's easier to
think about God here.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous12:33 AM

    I love the poem from your mother's journal. What memories it brings to mind of my grandmother's time spent in her rose garden. My grandmother and your mother would have had a lot to share.


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