I try not to write until the words pour out of me because they have to. Because I don't want to force something. And today the words poured out. I have been reflecting on mine and Lewis' relationship, and this is basically the result of those thoughts.
Gardening
“My heart is a secret garden and the walls are high.”
This is a line from something that has always been stuck in
my head.
I always wished it was true about my own heart.
But I don’t know how to build walls.
I let everyone in.
I let everyone plant whatever they wish in my heart’s
garden.
Weeds and flowers alike.
I don’t know how to distinguish, how to protect myself.
My garden became overcome by weeds - it was a jungle.
And not the romantic kind of jungle, the kind that reminds
you of Disney movies or adventures.
My jungle was just untamed plants, left there by everyone in my life.
I had no idea how to weed out what didn’t belong, so I
watered and tended to everything.
And everything grew.
But weeds did what weeds do, and began to choke and kill the
flowers and bushes and herbs and trees.
My garden became the backyard of an abandoned house.
My heart became full of lies and confusion and hopelessness.
I gave up on gardening, on self care.
But.
Then you came in.
You came in easily because there were no walls.
Because I still hadn’t figured out how to make those.
And you looked at the weeds and the jungle, and you didn’t see
a back yard, abandoned and untamed.
You chose to see an adventure.
You chose to love and nurture what I had left to rot.
You brought your shovel and your own lovely flowers, and
began.
You took my hand and showed me what the weeds were.
And why they were weeds, and how to tell a lie from the
truth.
You gently pulled, and every weed and every lie loosed from
the soil of my heart.
You replaced weeds with flowers, and vines with strong
tall trees of truth.
You watered them with your own sweat and tears and emotional
effort.
And I watched, in awe, as you gracefully and graciously
worked.
You taught me how to work along side you, and I began to
understand myself.
You helped me build a fence.
To protect my garden, to keep my heart safe from lies.
It’s white and pure and slender, but strong, and I am safe for the first time.
Weeds still sprout up, but now I know that they are lies.
I know how to pull them out and keep the flowers and the
truth safe.
I have begun to look at myself and see what you see.
I see life and love and something worth time and emotional
effort.
I see a beautiful garden.
And I see you with your hands full of flowers and love and
truth and grace.
And now I am at home, I am not trapped in a jungle.
I am at home within myself, within my own skin.
Because you came into my life and made me your home, and
made me someone you loved and cared for.
You made my mess worth loving and nurturing.
My heart is a beautiful garden, and it is full of life of
love.
