My attention is diverted as the perfume of honeysuckle wafts past my nose. My mind immediately flashes back to happy times; not that I am sad now, because I am not. Honeysuckle always recalls to my memory vivid images of preschool and kindergarten: pedaling around on tricycles; jumping through chalk-drawn squares of a hopscotch game; hula-hooping until my hips hurt; tossing out silver colored jacks with a flourish of the wrist; climbing, climbing, climbing to the top of my personal Mount Everest – an octagon-shaped jungle gym. I smile and sigh, contentedly. I love honeysuckle. I do not like honeysuckle-scented stuff…only pure, from the earth, honeysuckle.
I kick my feet up on a long, narrow, wooden foot rest and sink down a little lower against the bench; mellowed by the memory. Across from me, a gurgling pond is tagged and picks up where the honeysuckle left off. Its burble-burble-burble calms my soul; as if I’m a horse and it’s my “whisperer”. Its continual sound beckons. It says, “Focus on me. Keep listening until you hear only me. Tune out the sounds of the nearby highway. Forget that you are sitting in the middle of a downtown, urban, office complex. Close your eyes. Hear each splash. Tune your ear to the individual bubbles bursting upon my surface. Imagine the pattern of circles as each splash ripples and fades across me. Listen to the crush of the water cascading into itself." Releasing it all, I exhale again.
Now that my soul is quiet, I can hear the singing of the crickets, soft and sweet. Their gentle hum calls out to their mates. The rustle of the wind crescendos through the pine and green persimmon trees that populate the garden. A few large, dried, fallen leaves scrape along the weathered stone path. They sound, to my ears, like a pair of rattling maracas adding texture and layers to my private symphony. Yes, now, I am aware that I am an audience of one for a grand symphony. This beautiful orchestra is performing only for me. Soothingly, I feel the soft wind caressing my neck, as if to gently massage out any remaining tension. It continues to whisper in my ear a tranquil tune.
Dandelions are not weeds in this performance. No, instead, they are featured players dancing across a majestic stage. Twirling in their fluffy white skirts. Swaying. Floating way high. High, high, higher than my eyes can see. Chirping birds in the distance round out the chorus. Singing soprano, in accompaniment to the melodious clamor of the crickets, the water and the wind.
The most beautiful part of all of this is that I am wide-awake, yet, in perfect, tranquil, awe. I am awed at the loving magnitude and creativity of my Lord. He is such an amazing conductor. I am not dreaming this wonderful, truly wonderful, experience that he designed just for me in the midst of all this busyness. He gave me this private oasis, this tranquil garden, to press the pause button of life in; to envelope myself in His care. If only I choose to.
I appreciate You, God. Take a bow, Father. Encore! Encore!
Psalm 23 (NLT Version)
The LORD is my shepherd; I have all that I need. He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength. He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name.
Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me. You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies. You honor me by anointing my head with oil. My cup overflows with blessings.
Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the LORD forever.
