Hidden Toads

Desert Toad Hiding at the Local Nursery

In my garden, desert toads burrow into the ground and hibernate during the dry spells, only to emerge when the monsoon rains soak the soil in July and August. The garden of my soul has some hidden toads as well. I consider myself to be a happy person. I am at peace with the major mistakes of my life and grateful for my many blessings. Once in a while, though, a hidden toad emerges from the depths of my soul — the hurt from an old wound or an old irritation that should have been forgotten. I am always surprised when these hidden toads come to light. Like the desert toad, my hidden toads can exude toxins. They always bring a period of suffering, but the Lord eventually heals me, and then I find myself freer than I was before. That’s a good thing. Yet, I can’t help but wonder. Are there still more toads hidden in my garden?

Garden of Art

After we retired, my husband and I discovered that we loved art.  Each piece that we added to our walls added a new dimension of beauty to our lives.

I am attracted to beauty – the beauty of Carmelite spirituality, the inner beauty of the people I love, the beauty of nature and the garden, and last but not least, the beauty of art.  Everything beautiful reminds me of God.  Pictured above are a few of my favorites: “Blue Tutus” by Eric Wallis, “After the Mass” by Chuck Mardosz, “Embudo Bounty” by James Trigg, and “Texas Tapestry” by Eric Michaels.

The Humble Petunia

Although I love to look at pictures of exotic gardens with unusual plants, my own garden is a humble garden. I am content with geraniums, nasturtiums, lobelia, and of course, the humble petunia. The one pictured above is a survivor. I planted it last year, and it survived the winter down to 18° F. It didn’t grow during the cold season, but it remained green, and as soon as spring came, it grew so tall and blossomed so abundantly that it became top heavy and I had to cut it back almost to the ground. Undeterred, it is growing again, promising to be as prolific as ever. It reminds me of a quote by St. Therese of Lisieux: “The brilliance of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not lessen the perfume of the violet or the sweet simplicity of the daisy….If all the lowly flowers wished to be roses, nature would lose its springtide beauty, and the fields would no longer be enameled with lovely hues….” (From The Story of a Soul)

Abundance

Pecan Grove at the Carmelite Monastery in Las Cruces, New Mexico

A few years ago, my husband and I bought a lot that included 33 mature pecan trees. When the pecans ripened in December, I experienced the wonder of gathering food that fell from above.  This was a new experience for me, since I had never lived on a farm or even planted a vegetable garden.  I didn’t mind bending and stooping to search through the dry leaves for the pecans, though I was sore for several days afterwards.  One tree in particular produced so many pecans that I thought I could live on them for a year.  I probably couldn’t have, but so it seemed at the time.  We eventually sold the lot, so I only experienced that one abundant harvest. I treasure the memory.

Now it is May, and the pecan trees at the Carmelite Monastery have just come into leaf. It will be seven months before this year’s crop is ready for harvest, but the promise is already here. The earth is full of the goodness of God.

Shades of Green

When I was younger I didn’t have much use for shade gardens.  Too much green.  Not enough flowers.  Now that I am older, I have come to appreciate the plants that grow in the shade. Though less flashy than their sun-loving cousins, there is variety in the shapes and sizes of the leaves and in the shades of green. Because the flowers are less frequent, they are all the more precious. A shade garden doesn’t shout. It whispers.

Time

I often think about the mystery of time. God is outside of time, yet God dwells with us within time. How can anyone understand this?

More than anything else, time seems to be a grace. Day follows day. Season follows season. We unfurl our petals so gradually that we can only glimpse the meaning of the process in retrospect. We can only see the lessons learned from joy and suffering, success and failure, after we have had enough time to process and understand the fruits of our experiences.

Time also brings decline and dissolution. Another mystery. Yet, every year spring brings new hope.

Friendly Garden

It’s always a pleasure to wander through someone else’s garden. I love the wilderness flavor of this one, which was created by some neighbors who have become good friends. Their garden has a whimsical quality to it, a sort of ordered chaos. Walking through their garden gives me a whole new understanding of my friends. There is deep, abiding creativity here.

Garden Gate

Have I mentioned that my garden is enclosed within walls? It is my sanctuary, my cloister, my retreat. Yet, it is not completely hidden. There is an opening with a blue gate that allows family and friends to enter, and allows me to go out into the world, hopefully to share the beauty I have experienced with God in the garden. Yesterday at Mass in the Gospel reading, Jesus said: “I am the gate for the sheep … whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.” (Jn 10:7,9) Christ is the Beautiful Gate. My garden gate is only a reflection.

Coffee with the Lord

A couple of decades ago shortly after I converted to Catholicism, I went on a private retreat in the coastal mountains of California. A religious sister from another Order was staying there at the same time. One day I asked about her prayer life. She gave me an answer that has helped me many times over the years. She said that she had her morning coffee with the Lord every day. Sometimes, she talked to him about the coming day – her plans, hopes, and concerns. Sometimes, she and the Lord just sat together in comfortable, silent companionship. This morning I had my coffee with the Lord in the garden. The dog was lazing in the sun. The bees were visiting the blossoms. All was well in the world.