In the Garden
By, Sandra Monday
I sit here in the gathering hush,
Of my son’s nap and the clatter,
Of Bella as she plays among
the uber pink Barbie Dream House.
I am reminded to reflect upon joy.
To turn the vinegar back into wine.
To savor the kosher salt on a piece of honey dew,
feeling it rough yet salty at the tip of my tongue.
I walk out to the lake with my Iced tea and solitude,
to take in the sheer sensuality of God’s creation.
Color, light, and matter dance in a sea
of atoms and photons.
He is the Matrix, the great I AM.
I feel We are drawing close to one another.
Something is being revealed to me; a profound mystery,
wrapped in synchronicity.
Everywhere I look and listen to
what He is telling me.
He says trust, fight back fear.
There is no need to control everything,
for I am the Master of all.
He says it in the language of butterflies dancing at my nose.
Sometimes it will be a line in a movie.
Or a book.
Or the sudden appearance of a chicken hawk
landing beside me.
Or a strange dream.
I hear Him in the notes of music;
in the laughter of children.
When my arms prickle,
He is the very electricity that powers my brain and body.
There is a sense of comfort and peace.
Like when you fell asleep
in the back of the car,
listening to your parent’s low chatter
on a road trip.
There are anxieties over the daily bread.
So trust is something to be worked at.
But it can be,
it will be,
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