Gardening (with God)

I think God romances me in my garden. And before you think I have entirely lost the plot, let me explain. In the last two years I have grown green fingers. I find myself completely peaceful scrounging in the dirt, planting new life and my favourite: creating new plants from existing ones. I spend time there every day, even on the rainy, duvet days. My soul is peaceful most days and on the days there is frustration, anger, I find enormous release in pruning, sometimes going completely overboard and ending with a lobsided shape (our one hedge is a collapsing triangle – I now greet my neighbour every day). It is my quiet time, my time to reflect, re-focus and release and my time alone with God.
I never knew there was a Frangipani plant in my garden until it flowered for the first time. It is my favourite flower. I took it as a welcoming card from Him, this, here is your home. In the past few weeks I have been questioning life, the ebb and flow and seasons and as I was weeding furiously in between my aloes, I discovered a new seedling with delicate white flowers that look like little bells hiding in the shadow of a leaf. And He said, there is always beauty, there is always a second chance. 
He always speaks. Sometimes in the smell of the sea, in the call of seagulls, sometimes in the destruction sowed by snails (those little buggers drive me nuts). He reminds me that even though things change, they break and bleed, there is always love, there is always hope.

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