Grandmother's Garden

Marigold (tagetes) that brightens the eyes
 and maketh the heart glad.

Probably the first garden flower I knew was the marigold. Grandma planted them annually around the great white oak in her backyard. As we perched upon the stone planter, we wondered together about every bit of nature we perceived in the moment: the acorns and the squirrels, the sow bugs and the song birds. She must have been my age then, and I would have been about five.

Grandmother gave me a love for the garden. She also gave me her prayers. The two are twined within my heart so that today as I pulled the grass from the base of my fragrant french marigolds, I recognized that this community garden in which I labor together with my neighbors serves as my church. The broader community which I call home is my congregation. Here in the garden I let the world spill away. I turn my focus inward, working side-by-side with kind people in this recycled lot. Together we labor in love, cultivate a spirit of curiosity, support, and generosity. We share silently that private awe of God's creation and our place in it. The music we make is with our hands and backs, and when we look up we may recognize our smiles in another's face, or alone with the sky above and the ground beneath our feet, stand in witness to this sacred time in space.

I was in conversation today with the manager of our community garden. She is a certified master gardener and a certified theologian (both she and her husband are Episcopal ministers). I told her today that I was pleased she found her calling leading our community of gardeners. She asked me to join a Bible study group. I told her I am a Jew, not a Christian, and she welcomed me so that we could learn from one another. I consider myself a universalist, messianic Jew, and told her I would be glad to do just that. I've always meant to learn more about Christianity. I learned a fair piece growing up in a Universalist church, and since have studied Judaism before letting that, too, slide by the way. The trouble I had was with the social aspect of congregations, the sizing up and banding in measured cliques. No, I preferred going my own way with God, but I was glad for the company of gardeners. I told her that I would be interested in learning about commonalities between her religion and mine--and exploring commonalities with other paths such as Islam, as we share the one God (her admission).

Sons and daughters of Avraham, the garden is an apt metaphor. Eden was unavailable as a blogspot name. Eden was occupied! I hope the descriptive"tuning-in and turning-out" will offer as much play. I will tune in to what the garden has to say, and hope it turns out well for you, the reader.

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With God's grace, may my life itself become His dwelling place. At least, that is the direction I'm headed.