In the Garden





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I come to the garden alone,
While the dew is still on the roses;
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear,
The Son of God discloses

-C. Austin Miles

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When Grandma H, my dad's foster mom, was in the nursing home, our minister would stop in to visit her whenever he was visiting members of our church who were residents of the same facility.  Each time, just before he left, they'd sing the hymn "In the Garden" together, and it was one of the songs that we sang at her funeral.  I've always liked that song, but after that it had even more meaning to me personally.  Each time I sing it, I feel a little closer to her.

Grandma K, Mom's mom, went home to God and Jesus on February 10, 2006, less than 24 hours after I finalized the purchase of my condo.  It was a bittersweet day, Grandma was no longer suffering, but I had hoped that she would have been able to see my place, and that we could have built some special memories there.  Unfortunately, that wasn't to be.

A few years ago, I decided that I wanted to create a memorial garden, with things that reminded me of the loved ones who had passed through Heaven's Gate and were patiently waiting for us to be together again.  I knew that I wanted to anchor the garden with a sugar maple tree like the one that had been by Grandma and Grandpa K's house in town.  Grandpa had passed away when I was 3, so I most of my memories are from stories told to me and pictures...one of my favorites are of me, "Paca" and their dog Bingo under that tree.  I remember when the leaves would told beautiful shades of yellow and orange each fall, Grandma would remark how remarkable the works of the Lord were.

In addition to the tree, my garden included:

• Peonies that originated at Grandma K's house
• Lillies that were offsprings of the ones my brother had gotten from the milkhouse by Grandma and Grandpa H
• A mum that had been split off of one given to my mom when Uncle R passed away
• A rosebush, because Uncle R loved roses
• Miniture irises that my Uncle D had given me shortly after I moved into my house (and shortly before he passed away)
• Lilacs, because they reminded of my grandparents and Uncle D

A few weeks after the garden was completed, Aunt L went to be with Uncle R.  She loved ladybugs, and the day after when I found a concrete ladybug when I was at a local nursery, I knew I needed to add that to the garden.

This year, when my parents' neighbor, D, went to her Heavenly Home, I knew I wanted to add something to the garden for her.  D and her husband, G, had become family in the 11 years that my parents had lived next door, and when she'd talk to Cuddles she always referred to herself as "Grandma D."  Their granddaughter A and her family now live in the house, and they too have become like family (A's daughter - A2 has quickly become Dad's favorite...sometimes I think she may even outrank this "Daddy's Girl").  Originally, I thought that, when we had a month with an 'R' in it (because Uncle D said you didn't transplant in a month that didn't), I would try to move some of the lillies that came from D and G's flowerbed a few years ago, but this week when A had a garage sale, I found the right fit for the garden - a fountain that D and G had on their back deck.  It fit perfectly with everything that was already there, and when it got dark tonight and the light from the fountain illuminated the tree, I knew that was the perfect way to remember her, because she had an ever-present smile that, even on the worst day, would lighten my spirits.

While they aren't physically with us any more, I know that Grandma and Grandpa K, Grandma and Grandpa H, Uncle D, Uncle R, Aunt L, and D are watching over their family and friends, and that I will see them again when the Lord calls me home.  In the meantime, I carry a piece of them in my heart always, and when I need a moment of reflection and rememberence, my garden is the perfect place to go.

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And He walks with me,

And He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own,

And the joy we share as we tarry there,

None other, has ever, known!

-C. Austin Miles

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