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Showing posts from July, 2015

Gardening Therapy

When I go into my garden I work hard, but it doesn't feel like work; it feels like therapy. I often end up with sweat drops inside my eyeglasses, and I look like I've run a marathon. Sometimes I'm tempted to hum the tune, "If They Could See Me Now," as I am normally picky about being well groomed, but in the garden all grooming is off.

Sometimes I'm just enjoying the beauty of each unique plant and praising the Lord for providing such bounty. Other times, my heart is heavy, and I may be laying my burdens down as I'm on my knees, weeding and weeping. Sorrows could be rolling over me like sea billows, but after a session in the garden, I can agree with the songwriter of that popular hymn: "It is well with my soul."

I am no master gardener, but God certainly is, and He patiently teaches me life lessons as He cultivates my heart while I'm tending my little plots and pots:


Dead-heading: If I'll clip the spent and faded blooms, most plants will r…