The Garden

I want to sit in the garden by my Jesus and lay in the sun at his feet. We don’t talk. We just sit. Listening to the sounds of the garden. All of you can wait while I’m with my Daddy. Your problems are no longer mine. Because He’s here. And He loves me. And the voices stop. I can think again. But I don’t want to think, I want to listen. To the birds my Daddy made just for me, to sing my cares away. He made them for you too. You can come to the garden with me. Just don’t talk to me there. It’s not a place for words. It’s a place to lay at His feet and let him hold your heart.

In the garden He doesn’t care what you do, He just wants you to be there. Because everything about you is perfect to Him. You can laugh or cry or scream or sing but my favorite thing to do is just be. In his garden where nobody cares what you are, you’re just His. And no matter what you say, he knows what you mean.

It’s peaceful here in the garden. It’s just the way He wanted it. Just the way He planned it to be for you. Come into Daddy’s garden and lay at His feet.

See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God: and so we are. 1John 3:1