I come to the garden alone and He still comes, and I still belong.
I’ve had a tune stuck in my head for days. It’s an old hymn and one of my favorites, Into the Garden. It reminds me of my grandma Katherine and the old Methodist church in Hammond, KS that we used to go to when we would visit our grandparents farm in Fort Scott. I can imagine myself there, how the air felt, the creak of the pews, the smell of the old books and freshly perfumed senior citizens. I miss it. I miss church. I haven’t been to church in a while. That’s about 3 blogs worth of explanation for a later date.
Sometimes, my grandma comes to me in a dream. Or, I dream of her. Or, I have a dream and she is present. That all depends on your perspective. When this happens, I feel peaceful. She was a petite, busy, kind woman who smelled like roses and gave me long squeezy tight hugs. I miss her. I miss the farm. Maybe she will visit me tonight? Sweet dreams.