Come to the Garden

by Jennifer Wilder Morgan

  I sat, stunned, as Margaret let this sink in. Images from my dream flashed before my eyes . . . the demons, the altar table, the books . . .

  “Oh, Margaret,” I asked breathlessly, “God was trying to tell me something important about that altar table, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, he was, child,” answered Margaret, “and it’s a message you were very close to understanding on your own. A few minutes ago, you mentioned you assumed the three books placed on the table in your dream represented people, and that there was a need for healing in their relationships with one another and with God. Those books did represent people, Jenn . . . not just peoples of the faiths represented by the three books, but all people. God set his table with the cup of salvation, and invites all children to join him there—to soak in his anointing of love, healing, forgiveness, mercy, and grace. Isn’t that beautiful? God offers this table because he is not only a God of judgment. He is a God of grace. In his unfathomable mercy, he provides a way for those lost to Darkness to be restored to him. And that way is Jesus, the ever-present, overflowing cup of salvation. Do you remember Jesus’ message for you when we discussed your personal encounter with him? ‘No darkness is too dark, no circumstance is too dire for me to walk into with my Light and free you.’ What a comforting message that is for a world suffering from violence and terror.”

  “Wow, Margaret,” I said. “That is beautifully said, and is a lot to absorb!”

  “I’m going to give you a little bit more to absorb, dear, because there is a serious warning about God’s table. If you remove yourselves from the table because of hatred and violence toward one another, you fall prey to Satan and the power of Darkness. God grieves terribly about the destruction and death unleashed by his enemy, and his judgment will be fierce upon those who insist on remaining under Satan’s power.”

  Yep, that’s a serious warning, all right, I thought.

  “There is so much more to this dream than I realized, Margaret,” I said, “and it seems to keep revealing new truths over the years. I had a mind-blowing revelation about this dream ten years after the September eleventh attack.”

  “Oh?” said Margaret mysteriously. “Tell me.”

  “Well,” I replied, “this revelation occurred on September 10, 2011—just one day shy of the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 tragedy. I was once again in Maine and took the local newspaper down to the beach to read about the preparations for the next day’s memorial ceremonies. I turned to the religion section and was stunned by the photograph printed on the first page. It was a picture of an open Bible fused into metal, found by a New York firefighter in the rubble of the fallen Twin Towers of the World Trade Center.

  “I was so overcome by what I saw in front of me. I had always considered the Bible and other books found in the rubble to be important symbols in my dream. But what God showed me that day on the beach was that the Bible in my dream wasn’t just a symbol. It was real. There in front of me, printed in the newspaper, was a photograph of a Bible, fused in a heart-shaped shard of metal actually found in the rubble. And I’ll bet that heart shape meant that God loves us—like a little love note from him. That just amazed me, Margaret!”

  “Did you bother to look to see what the scripture said on the exposed pages of that Bible?” Margaret asked,

  “Uh, no,” I replied. “I didn’t think to do that. Why?”

  Margaret laughed softly. “If you had looked closely, Jennifer, you would have seen that God left a message for humanity in the aftermath of the terror attack. The Bible was open to Matthew chapter five, where Jesus gave his famous Sermon on the Mount. This page contains Jesus’ teaching on the Law of Retaliation, and the Law of Love. He states: ‘You have heard that it was said “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust.’

  “This is a clear message to extend the love and mercy of God to those who are the most difficult to love. You have a responsibility to pray for those who hurt you and for those who have become lost in the Darkness, so that their hearts might be changed and that they will repent and accept the mercy and salvation so freely offered. This is a very difficult concept for humanity to grasp, but it is of utmost importance. The truth as Jesus spoke it two thousand years ago remains truth today. You mentioned, Jenn, that your dream keeps revealing truth, and you are right. Prophecy speaks through the ages.”

  Okay. I was blown away again. “Margaret, you have taught me so much that my head is spinning,” I said. “I have a much clearer picture of what God was teaching me in this dream. It is imperative that we no longer ‘sit in the back of the cathedral,’ watching and doing nothing about the events going on in our world. As children of God and heirs to his Kingdom, we need to come together and be prayerfully active to bring his love and mercy to all peoples of the world. By doing so, the power of his love will destroy the hold that the Enemy has over our lives. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

  “I am proud of you, Jennifer.” Margaret said fondly. “And I love how your heart pursues and embraces the revelations God sends you in your dreams. As we leave our discussion of this prophetic dream, hear God’s whisper of invitation to you:

  “I have prepared a special place for you at my table, precious one, where you and any you invite can rest in my eternal promise of mercy, love, and salvation. Beware of embracing hatred, because it will remove you from my table and from my protection. That, my love, would cause me unbearable sorrow.”

  Oh. Those beautiful words nearly broke my heart.

  Rainbows and Roses

  Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.

  JOHN 14:1–3

  And this is the promise that he made to us—eternal life.

  1 JOHN 2:25

  I tilted my head back and exhaled a long, slow breath. The telling of these past two dreams had been both exhausting and exhilarating. Margaret’s firm grip, still on my shoulder, softened as she gave me a gentle pat. The wind slowly wound down to a pleasant breeze, and the turbulence overhead parted and melted away to reveal a deep-blue sky dotted with white, puffy clouds.

  Looking up at Margaret, I noticed more changes taking place in her appearance, as well as that of our two silent friends. Margaret’s gown had turned from silver to a sparkling mix of sky blue and green, reflecting perfectly the sky and the treetops swaying in the breeze. Her shield was gone. Our other two companions were also transforming before my eyes. Their silver robes were now white as snow, glowing faintly as if lit from within. Their faces were shining so brightly that I could not quite make out their features. They both nodded at me, and I instinctively knew they were smiling.

  “Our friends are soon going to return to their home with our Father,” said Margaret softly, “but first they wish to stroll about and enjoy your beautiful gardens.” With a mysterious twinkle in her eye, she leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Watch them closely as they depart!”

  My heart was filled with love and gratitude for these two mighty, gentle beings because I now knew that they, along with Margaret, had been the angels watching over me during my dreams. They helped me to remain asleep in order to dream and receive the messages my Lord had intended for me. They gently prodded and guided me down the aisle after the demon’s challenge and prompted me in my confusion and terror to say the Lord’s Prayer in order to break Satan’s power. They were my quiet escorts as I picked the three books from the rubble and placed them on the altar table.

  My eyes filled with tears as I thanked them. “You were there for me, and I cannot even begin to tell you how much that means to me. It is so
comforting—and empowering—to know that you are there fighting for me even when I cannot see you. Our God is a mighty and wonderful God to provide the protection of his angels for the children he loves so much! I hope I will see you again someday. Until then, thank you with all my heart. God bless you.”

  The large angels nodded at me in unison once more and moved slowly out into the yard. As they brushed silently by me, I caught a whiff of the unmistakable scent of white roses.

  Margaret and I stood and watched our companions slowly roam about the gardens, stopping to observe a monarch butterfly immerse itself in the deep-purple blooms of a butterfly bush. In the hummingbird garden, they watched as a ruby-throated hummingbird zipped in and paused to sip sweet nectar from a sparkling red-glass feeder. They wandered over to the statue of St. Francis of Assisi, and as they did so, one of our resident bluebirds swooped down to take a drink of water from the basket in the statue’s arms. Finally, as they walked through the back of the yard toward a large boulder hewn from the rocky hills of northwest Texas, the most magical thing happened.

  The angels began to disappear, but it seemed as if they were moving through a strange doorway. A shaft of light, like a vertical slit, appeared, and immediately formed a brilliant rainbow prism that fanned out on both sides as they walked through. My breath caught in my throat as I realized the intense colors in the prism were the familiar colors of the rainbow, but also included colors I had never seen before! I passed my hand before my eyes, because I really could not believe what I was seeing. The colors were still there, and as the angels passed through this entryway, the prism folded around them, shrunk to a sliver of blinding bright light, and then disappeared altogether. The bluebird that had been drinking from the St. Francis statue flew right through the space the angels had just departed from and landed on top of his birdhouse in the back of the yard.

  “Oh, Margaret,” I breathed, “how absolutely beautiful. The doorway to heaven cracked open for barely a second and the light just spilled out! I had no idea there were so many colors.”

  “That was a special gift our friends left with you, my child,” said Margaret.

  I stood there in amazement as I absorbed what I had just witnessed, and a thought occurred to me. “When I’m watering my gardens and the water spray hits the sunlight just right, a rainbow appears out of nowhere. I have often marveled that those rainbows are probably always there, but just need the right conditions to occur in order for them to be revealed.

  “But—wow—what happened just now tells me that heaven is like the rainbows. God and our two angel friends just now chose to give me a brief, beautiful peek at a realm unseen by human eyes.”

  “I have an idea,” said Margaret in a whisper. “Let’s go over to the spot where they left. Come!” Motioning to the back of the yard by the bluebird house, she picked up the hem of her gown and began hurrying through the cool grass. I joined her, and as we reached the spot where the prism of colors and shaft of light had briefly existed, I caught a slight lingering scent of the white roses. There was nothing left to see but my yard, just as it always had been.

  Margaret stretched out her arms and began twirling slowly around. “Do this, too,” she challenged. So I stretched my arms wide and began twirling very slowly, secretly hoping that no neighbors would choose to pick this particular moment to look out their window into my yard!

  “Now, Jenn, think about this as you gently cut through the air around you with your arms. Heaven is all around us, although with your earthly eyes you cannot see it. So right now, even as you are circling around in your backyard with your arms outstretched, you are embracing heaven.”

  My heart began to beat a little faster as I tried to grasp the concept of embracing heaven. Oh, how I wished I could reach out with my wide-open arms and give Jesus a great big hug. I lifted my face toward the warm sun, closed my eyes, and kept twirling. When I began to get a little dizzy, I stopped and opened my eyes. Margaret had already stopped twirling and was watching me with a look of pure joy. I could sense another important message coming my way.

  “Dear child,” said Margaret, her voice just above a whisper, “heaven has always been a great mystery here on earth. I know you have been given a few precious glimpses into some truths about heaven, and I want you to tell me about them in a little while. But for now, our angel friends gave you this parting gift for a reason. Our Father wants you to know that the glimpses and little moments of truth that you have received about heaven are real and are from him. He encourages you to share what he has permitted you to see. He knows it will bring peace to those who have eyes that are open to see, a mind willing to accept, a heart tuned to the Word of God, and arms prepared to embrace joys that cannot even be imagined.”

  Margaret suddenly began fanning herself with her hands, making her soft white hair dance in wisps around her face. “Whew! My goodness, it is really getting warm out here. Let’s get something cool to drink and return to our spot by the garden. Then we can speak more of heaven.”

  I left Margaret sitting out under the umbrella as I went inside to fetch some tall glasses of ice-cold water. “Welcome to warm and humid Texas, Margaret,” I teased, as I set our frosty glasses on the table. “It has taken a while to get used to, but now I love it, especially how the air feels lazy and soft.”

  “Mm.” Margaret nodded as she sipped her cool drink. Large beads of condensation trickled off the end of her glass and plopped onto her gown. They went unnoticed as she peered intently through the gardenia bushes planted in the garden next to us.

  “Jenn, what is that sweet little plaque resting against the bottom of one of the columns?” she asked.

  “Oh,” I sighed wistfully, “that is a memorial for my little dog, named Mia. Several years ago at our former home, Mia escaped from our yard, became lost, and while trying to find her way back, she was hit by a car and killed. We found her in the road and brought her home to bury her in our garden. It completely shattered our hearts. We loved her so very much. She always liked to roam about the yard, sniffing the flowers, so I thought it would be nice to put a memorial here in this garden . . . to keep a part of her with us. I call this ‘Mia’s garden.’ ”

  I paused as I felt the sadness of this memory tug on my heart.

  “I’m so sorry, Jennifer,” Margaret said gently. “I know how difficult losing Mia was for you. Something special happened the day after she died . . . do you remember?”

  “Yes, I do remember. A remarkable encounter—I have always wondered about it.”

  “Tell me,” Margaret prompted.

  “Well, Guy and I were so devastated by Mia’s sudden death that we hardly knew how to function. The day after she died, we decided we had to get out of the house and go do something, so we put our other little dog, Isabel, in the car and we drove down to Galveston Island, our favorite place to take the dogs for long walks on the beach. I cried my heart out as we wandered along the beach, thinking about how much I missed my little Mia. Finally the tears subsided, and we took some comfort in watching Isabel happily chase after little sandpipers near the water’s edge.

  “We came upon two men who stopped us and asked us about Isabel. They asked if she was an Italian greyhound, to which we answered yes. They went on to say that one of them had had an Italian greyhound that had been hit by a car and killed, and how difficult that time had been for him. I was stunned. We had not even mentioned our Mia, that she was also an Italian greyhound and had been struck and killed by a car just the day before. As we talked with the two men about Mia and our similar circumstance, I felt calmed by their words, and for the first time since Mia’s death, felt peace begin to creep into my heart. After a while they said their good-byes and walked away from us. We never saw them again.”

  “What struck you as so remarkable about this encounter?” asked Margaret.

  “The conversation we had with those two men was so specific to our situation,” I answered. “Usually, when people saw our dogs, they said things like, ‘Cute dog
s . . . what kind are they?’ and moved on. Something has always told me that meeting those men really wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t, was it, Margaret?”

  “Specific encounters like what you just described are never coincidences, child,” said Margaret softly. “Your instinct was correct. Those ‘men’ you met were angels, sent by God to heal the broken hearts of two of his children that day on the beach. This was another heavenly intersection along your life’s path.”

  Margaret paused to let me absorb this truth for a moment and then asked, “Do you believe Mia is in heaven?”

  “Oh, yes, Margaret, I absolutely do,” I answered without hesitation. “My pets are such an important part of my life. They have always provided me with unconditional love and comfort, characteristics of the Creator himself. I have no doubt God sent them to me and that, when they die, he takes them home to wait for that happy day when we will all be reunited.”

  “Our God is such a good and loving God,” nodded Margaret, her eyes misting with tears. “Your little Mia and all your other beloved pets are in his benevolent hands.”

  “I know you are speaking the truth,” I said with a tender smile. “I think of my sweet dogs and cats romping and playing together in heaven, in fields of green grass sprinkled with wildflowers and alive with butterflies. Cool shade trees line the bank of a nearby stream of clear, cold water, where they can rest and drink. That little ‘mind picture’ gives me great comfort and always makes me smile.

  “I love to hear what other people’s ‘mind pictures’ of heaven are like,” I continued. “When I was little, I thought heaven was a bunch of white clouds that you drifted on while playing the harp. It actually seemed pretty boring, except for the playing the harp part. One of my childhood friends told me that heaven looked like a gingerbread house—no . . . a gingerbread city—on steroids. It had buildings made of pearls, rubies, emeralds, and silver, streets made of gold and diamonds, and everything sparkled in a brilliant light.