Introspective Sojourner

I walked through the garden, taking in all the colors and scents. A quiet stream flowed gently through it. The peace was consuming. It was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. More colors than I knew existed, and the flowers were wildly complex and intricate. The grass was high and lush, gently swaying in the breeze. It was warm. Perfectly comfortable. It was perfect.

“Is this Heaven?” I asked turning toward Jesus.

“No, but the veil is thin here.”

“How did I find this?”

“It’s a gift from the Holy Spirit.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Time is different here. Like if you were to zoom in on a circle so closely that what you see is a straight line. A moment here is like that. It’s perspective.” He smiled gently ensuring I understood. I did. Time was slow and full here.

I was singing again. Like I could hear a song and was singing along. I was so grateful for the song. It filled my heart. Tears rolled down my cheeks. 

Jesus gently took a flower and leaned it toward my hand. The second it touched me, I could hear its song. It was magical. Somehow my song harmonized perfectly. Like my soul knew the flower was singing even if my ears couldn’t hear it before. I reached for another flower without letting go of the first. It had a song too. All three different. All three beautifully complemented each other, like a small orchestra. The beauty and the scents all adding to this amazing garden. Jesus smiled as he watched me take it in.

“The whole garden is singing?”

“Yes, even the rocks cry out.”

I recognized the reference. Another tear. 

“It’s overwhelming, it’s so beautiful. And this isn’t Heaven?”

“You aren’t ready yet. You’re still learning your song. Heaven is so much more.”

“Can’t I learn my song there?”

“Some people do. But that’s not His plan for you. The world needs a little of your song. Your children and grandchildren – they need to hear more of it. Their roots aren’t as strong. Your song and the harmony you and your husband bring to each day and each other, it sings to their spirit. They don’t even notice sometimes but their spirit does.”

“We aren’t always in harmony.” I said looking down sadly. I knew that I played a part in that. 

“The moment you accepted me, I touched your spirit. I placed that song in you like a seed. The Holy Spirit has been protecting it, helping it find deeper soil. Helping the soil become more rich, and gently teasing out the roots. Some seeds land in rich soil immediately. Some seeds do not, and the soil has to be tended to first. You have wanted to burst out of that shell from a very young age. You heard the song, and you wanted to grow like these flowers to sing your song with all your heart, but the soil wasn’t ready. You needed the protection of the shell as the Spirit tended to it. You were still learning your song, but it wasn’t time to sing it to the world. Little by little your roots have shot out and moved deeper and deeper. You were thirsty for the Spirit, to hear the whole orchestra. But you…” He said looking directly in my eyes, “get distracted by other pieces of the song. Wanting other seeds to open before they are ready, before the soil is ready.”

I thought about the times I had tried to encourage spiritual growth in my husband or my kids. Maybe force it. Wanting to point out the splinter in their eye while ignoring the log in my own. I thought I was helping. 

I nodded my head slowly and asked, “Did I mess things up?”

“Of course not. The Spirit gently redirected those roots to where they needed to go. It’s not your job to help them grow. That’s His job. He’s got it under control. Their part of the song is different from yours. They have to learn their part, not yours. The Spirit sees the whole score, like a conductor. Some of the parts need to repeat and play again stronger or softer to support the score. Your part has had repeats too.”

“I thought I just hadn’t fully learned that lesson.” I smiled weakly.

“That’s not the whole truth though. You kept moving forward and kept searching for God. And that helped others to want to search for Him both when you seemed to be doing a good job and when you seemed off track. Sometimes people needed to feel right or superior to find their way. It’s all part of the song. The Spirit used both the harmony and the dissonance to make something beautiful.”

“When will I grow flowers?”

“If you grow flowers too soon your stems will break. That’s not what is planned for you. You can’t look at those who are supposed to have long and bending stems because that’s not the kind of flower you’ll support. You need deeper roots and stronger stems because I have something truly unique planned for you. You also can’t look at your strong stems and compare it to others who are supposed to bloom fast with soft stems. The garden needs them all. You aren’t the gardener, I am. You need those types of flowers to strengthen your soil. You don’t see the big picture. It’s not time.”

I nodded. “I don’t trust you enough.”

“No one does. You’re trying. You’re still learning.” He pointed to a rose and continued, “You know how a rose bush pushes out beautiful blooms and then they die off so the stems can come in stronger, and the blooms can be even more beautiful. Learning is something like that. Keep singing your song. Keep growing your roots. Trust me. Trust the Spirit. There’s so much more than you can imagine.”

I could feel the world coming closer to the garden, pulling me away. “Is my time here over now?”

“For now. But you can return anytime you need to. You know the song. You know the way.”

I felt the love and heard the song again – like the orchestra had burst out around me. Sweeping me away for the longest moment.

Another tear rolled down my cheek and I could hear my church singing. I opened my eyes to those standing around me singing to Him. Worshiping. I could feel the Spirit. He was thick in the room with those who’d gathered. All the saints reaching out to touch and be touched by Him. Roots growing, a song being revealed. In His time. According to His plan. 

Something more than I could ever imagine.

By Vicki L. Pugliese