Reflections from a Garden

(As we begin Lent, may this poem reflection help prepare you for one of the most beautiful seasons of our liturgical year - a time for pruning, letting go, cultivating in the dark tombs of our hearts, and ultimately RISING!)

Ruthless in love,
the gardener has stripped me —
ripped away all the parched,
cracked, and brittle remnants
of last year’s fruit.

He has torn up
all that no longer has a place in me.
My soil sighs and labors to let go
but the Hands of Love are relentless
in their mission —
tearing away insecurities,
ripping out self-love
wrenching from clenched hands
all unhealthy dependencies.

I am barren and empty now.
My ground is throbbing in pain.
He whispers:

“Watch and wait.”

He presses something in—
hard and sharp—
a thorn?
I cry out,
my soul very Much Afraid.
He whispers:

“Watch and wait.”

Days pass.
I am still empty.
The pain of the ripping
is a dull ache but ever present.
But there is something new stirring—
a warmth deep in the garden of my heart.

I water it with my tears,
as I have so many nights before,
and dare to question the Almighty—
“How long?”

He whispers and I hope:

“Watch and wait with me.”

“Behold, I make all things new!”