Come to the Garden

by Jennifer Wilder Morgan

  My heart overflowed with love and humility as I sat there listening to Margaret’s words. Fighting back the tears that were once again welling in my eyes, my gaze fell upon the wrapped package on the table, and I recalled a meaningful story about the gifts God wished to share with us.

  “Margaret,” I said, a little shyly, “something you said just now, about how God has so much he wants to give us, reminds me of a remarkable vision someone once shared with me. Would you like to hear about it?”

  “We would love to,” all three angels exclaimed at once. That made me smile. And so I told them about the vision of the gifts.

  A woman sees herself in a room in heaven, and the room is filled with beautifully wrapped packages. As she wanders around the room to get a closer look, she realizes that they all have her name on them. The Lord is standing there watching her, and she asks him, “Lord, what are these? Are they all for me?” The Lord replies, “Yes, child, they have been up here your entire life, just waiting for you to ask for them. When you ask for a gift, it is sent to you. These are the leftover gifts you have never asked for.

  “This woman realized that she needed to free herself to ask God for his blessings and for the desires of her heart, because he so much wanted to give them. In fact, he has them all ready to send.”

  “That is an important lesson,” said Margaret. “Remember when I told you at the beginning of our journey that I wanted you to approach it with the faith of a child?”

  I nodded.

  “When you were a child, I watched you receive your birthday and Christmas gifts with pure delight and expectation. And the gifts you received brought you joy, enrichment, and knowledge. That is how God wants his children to be, Jenn, with the gifts he is so willing to provide to you. He wants you to ask for whatever is in your heart with childlike expectation, and then joyfully open your arms to receive.”

  I thought about what Margaret said for a moment. “I think I have always had a hard time asking God for my heart’s desires because I felt that they wouldn’t be important enough to God. After all, he is God and has a lot more to worry about than me. But I love what you just said, because it reminds me that I am his child—the delight of his heart—of course he wants me to come to him with my needs and desires!”

  My three angel friends smiled in approval. Then Margaret continued. “I have a suggestion for you, Jenn. Make a list of the deepest desires of your heart, pray over them with expectation, and then tuck them inside your Bible in Matthew chapter twenty-one, verse twenty-two, where it reads, ‘Whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith.’ Then, every few months or so, pull out your list and see how God has acted upon it. I think you will be astonished at the results. Just remember,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye, “that God sometimes answers with something different from what you have asked for, because he knows you better than you know yourself.”

  The two warrior angels were nodding their heads enthusiastically as Margaret finished speaking. That made me smile!

  “Let’s get back to the party,” Margaret said with a grin. “I have asked someone else to join our little celebration.” She turned in her chair, looked out into the yard, and called, “Come on out, sweet babies!”

  Suddenly I spied three little heads peeking out from behind one of the tall rosebushes. In response to Margaret’s call, out pranced my three sweet dogs, wagging their tails. Each wore a beautiful white satin bow tied to its collar.

  I clapped my hands. “Hannah! Isabel! Cody! You look fabulous!” My darling canine trio trotted over to our table and stood by each of the three angels.

  “We could not have had the party without them, Jenn. They have so graciously shared their home and yard with us these past few days.” Margaret directed her attention to the pups as they watched her with great interest. “And to show our thanks to you, little four-legged children, we have something for you.”

  A crystal bowl had appeared on the table and it was filled to the brim with heart-shaped dog treats. Each angel took a treat from the bowl and placed it on the table before them. Cody, using all the restraint he could muster, sat down before Margaret in his best ‘sit,’ and without any prompting pronounced three carefully formed syllables: “Rhy! Rhuv! Rhoo!”

  Our two mighty angel friends roared with laughter. They asked simultaneously, “Do the other dogs talk, too?”

  “No”—I laughed—“but they do a very nice doggy-speak when asked.”

  And sure enough, as each angel commanded them to speak, Hannah and Isabel responded brilliantly with a sharp ruff!

  The laughter and ruffs lasted for a few more minutes until I noticed the bowl was practically empty of treats.

  “I hate to be a party pooper,” I scolded, “but these kiddos still have to eat their dinner. I think we have had enough treats for tonight.”

  Margaret sneaked one final treat to Cody and then stood up. “We can’t let them leave without a blessing,” she said, looking at them fondly. The other two angels stood and joined Margaret. Each angel placed a gentle hand on a dog’s forehead. I was amazed at how quiet and still the dogs had become. Maybe they sensed the presence of their Creator in their new friends.

  Margaret prayed, “May God bless and keep you, dear little ones, for all the days of your lives. May you always have sunshine to play in, treats to fill your tummies, and your momma’s love to keep you warm and cozy at night. God loves you very much, Hannah, Isabel, and Cody.”

  After a few last pats and hand licks and tail wags all around, the pups trotted off to the porch, where they snuggled into their outside beds to wait for me. I was so touched that Margaret had included my sweet dogs in this special evening. She really knew my heart.

  Next, Margaret picked up the gift from the table and came to stand by my chair. “Okay, Jennifer, now it is your turn for a treat.” She looked fondly over at her heavenly companions and continued. “We spent quite a bit of time in the throne room with our Father today, discussing which gift would be the perfect one to give to you this evening. After all, as we just acknowledged, God has so many gifts to give to his children.”

  I nodded. The suspense was killing me.

  Margaret then leaned down and placed the gift in my hands. It was wrapped in lovely pearl-white paper and tied with a light-blue satin ribbon. “We present this to you, Jennifer, with much love from the very heart of heaven. Go ahead, child, . . . open it!”

  Their eyes shining like the stars, the angels watched as I carefully removed the ribbon and unwrapped the package. I lifted the cover from the box and looked inside . . . and gasped. A bright luminescence flooded out of the box, illuminating my face. As I peered closer for a better look at the contents, I realized that the box was full of tiny, shimmering, diamond-like crystals just slightly larger than grains of sand. It was breathtakingly beautiful . . . but what was it?

  I looked up with a questioning gaze to see all three angels smiling at me, laughing softly with joy. Then Margaret spoke, answering my question before it could form on my lips. “This, Jennifer, is a very special gift. The box you hold in your hands contains the seeds of hope.”

  My mouth dropped open in surprise. I didn’t know there really was such a thing!

  Margaret continued. “When we began this journey together, you expressed the desire to explore the mysterious Divine encounters you have experienced, and to understand the reason God was revealing his presence to you so profoundly. The answer to your question is sitting in this box in your hands, dear one. God has been revealing himself to you so that you can reveal him to others. By sharing your Divine dreams and the encounters you have had with your Creator, you will be sowing these seeds of hope into the hearts and lives of countless others. And each of these tiny seeds is inscribed with the promise you now know well . . . I am with you always.”

  Tears really did begin to flow now. I was humbled, and honored, that God would entrust me with such a special endeavor.

  With a tender smile, Margaret continued. “Hop
e must not be contained, so together, in a few moments, we are going to scatter these seeds. Your garden, Jennifer, will become a sacred garden, where the seeds of hope will rest and find nourishment. And as your testimony finds open and believing hearts, the seeds of hope will take root and grow. As they grow, their roots will spread deep and wide to search out new fertile ground. This is how hope spreads.”

  I had no words. Just more goose bumps.

  “Come now . . . let’s do this!” Margaret said excitedly, motioning for the rest of us to join her as she stepped through the rosebushes and walked into the yard. “Bring the box with you, Jenn,” she called.

  As we stood together in the deep backyard, I carefully tilted the box and poured the tiny, glowing seeds into the waiting cupped hands of each angel, and then poured some into my own. “Margaret,” I whispered, “tell us when!” I could hardly breathe . . . this moment felt so holy.

  As if reading my thoughts, Margaret lifted her cupped hands to the sky and pronounced in a clear voice “Let these words from Isaiah be fulfilled: ‘For as the earth brings forth its sprouts, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to sprout up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to sprout up before all the nations.’ ”

  Then she lowered her arms and with a bright smile said, “Now!”

  With that, the four of us swung our arms in great arcs, releasing the tiny glowing seeds of hope. I watched as the seeds scattered all over my yard and gardens, shimmering and sparkling as they settled into the ground. For a sacred moment the ground looked like a mirror image of the twinkling heavens above us. Soon the shimmering stopped. The seeds were now at rest. Waiting.

  We walked back to our table in silence, and after we were all seated, Margaret said softly, “It was no coincidence, Jenn, that God chose the setting of your garden for our journey together. His love for gardens is represented in Scripture from beginning to end. God created the Garden of Eden for his beloved children, Adam and Eve. He walked with them and talked with them in that beautiful place. This was the setting of perfect relationship between God and humanity until the Fall from Grace. The Garden of Gethsemane was a retreat of serenity and prayer for our beloved Jesus as he faithfully carried out the Divine will of the Father. The Garden Tomb, where Jesus was buried, became the most sacred place on earth when he emerged from the tomb alive, victorious over sin and death. Here in this garden, Grace was restored. And when the great I AM finally comes to dwell among his children once again in the new heaven and earth, a glorious new garden will spring forth from in front of his throne, a crystal clear river of the water of life lined on either side by the trees of life, laden with luscious fruits. This garden will celebrate the fully restored relationship between God and his beloved children.

  “God rejoices in the time that he spends with you here in your garden, dear one. The roots of his love for you grow deeper than you could ever imagine. And it pleases him so much that your garden has been added to those nurturing these precious seeds of hope—hope that will lead his beloved children back into a relationship with him.”

  As she finished speaking, a gentle breeze began rustling the treetops, picking up in intensity as it brushed through the yard, ringing my wind chimes and rustling the leaves and blossoms of the white rosebushes with the sound of a melancholy sigh. I sensed a change in the air.

  Before I could even say a proper thank-you for this wonderful evening, Margaret and the two mighty angels rose from the table. As she looked at me fondly, I knew she understood the feelings in my heart. I loved her so much and had treasured the moments we had here at this table, sharing coffee, laughter, tears, and stories of God’s revealed truths. With a sinking feeling, I suspected that my beloved angel and her two friends were soon going to leave my backyard for the final time. I rose from my chair to join them.

  Confirming my last thought, Margaret gently placed her hands in mine and looked into my eyes. “It is now time for us to return Home, for our assignment here is finished. You will see us again, for we are always with you—remember that I am your guardian angel! And who knows”—she winked mysteriously—“our Father may have other assignments for you and me in the future.” Her blue eyes danced merrily as she smiled her beautiful smile and wrapped me in a big hug. Then she whispered, “Give your sweet Guy a hug from me, and tell him he will catch many fish with that believing heart of his.”

  I laughed in surprise as she released me. Heaven had been listening to our conversation that night on the porch.

  I addressed the three dear angels standing in front of me. “Thank you, all of you,” I said with a full heart. “This was a wonderful party, and your gift is precious to me. I will think of each of you every day as I sit out here in my garden. I love you all so much.”

  “We love you, too, Jennifer,” all three said at once. That made me smile again. Each of the mighty warrior angels gave me a big, sweet, gentle hug, and then all three angels turned and retreated slowly back through the white rosebushes toward the statue of St. Francis.

  As they shimmered and vanished in a soft glow of white light, my backyard was returned to its original setting—the roses and glowing, dancing lights were gone.

  Feeling the return of those pesky tears, I breathed a deep sigh and walked over to where the angels had just departed. Something on the ground at the feet of St. Francis caught my attention. I smiled through my tears as I recognized what it was. There lay a beautiful white rose, with no thorns. Suddenly, the air around me was filled with a sweet, clear voice that could only belong to an angel, and to my delight, she was singing a hymn I dearly loved called “In the Garden” . . .

  “I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses; and the voice I hear, falling on my ear; The Son of God discloses.

  “And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own, and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known . . . ”

  I closed my eyes and let my mind fill with the image of Jesus smiling at me and holding my hand as we listened to the hymn together here in my own garden.

  All too soon, Margaret’s sweet, beautiful voice faded away, and I knelt down to pick up the white rose. As I stood and brushed the tears from my face, a smile formed on my lips as I looked at the rose in my hand. I knew just what to do with it.

  Epilogue

  It will be good for those servants whose master finds them ready, even if he comes in the middle of the night or toward daybreak . . . You also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.

  LUKE 12:38, 40 (NIV)

  Dappled sunlight sparkles through the tall pines of the dense forest, and my footsteps make barely a sound on the soft carpet of mossy earth. This looks a lot like the beloved Michigan pine forest where I vacationed in my youth. I lift my head and breathe in the pungent aroma of evergreen mixed with the musty smell of decaying leaves and pine needles. As I continue down the path I come upon a large log-cabin lodge. It has two massive, hinged wooden doors, standing wide open. I step through the great doors and look around the interior of the lodge. Above me, a high-beamed ceiling soars upward and meets at the center like an A. The floor is made of strong wooden planks. There is no furniture except for one thing that stands in the middle of the room directly in front of me. It is a huge, long, rectangular wooden table. It is so tall I can barely see over it.

  I sense movement and see a doorway on the wall to the left of the table, like a big pantry door. Someone is rummaging around inside. Then he steps out. It is Jesus! He moves along the table, busily arranging items and then returns to the pantry for more. Whatever he is doing, he is totally engrossed in it. Finally, he notices my presence, looks at me with a mixture of surprise and joy, and steps around the table to stand in front of me.

  “Jennifer!” He exclaims, “You are early. As you see, I am still preparing things.” He puts his arm around my shoulders and gently guides me outside. He turns me toward the forest, and I see hundreds of little l
og houses blending in so well with the trees that I did not notice them before. He motions to one of the houses and lovingly whispers in my ear, “Go home, child, and get yourself ready. When everything is prepared, I will call all of you to come and join me.”

  I head off toward the little house he has selected for me, full of anticipation for the feast he has so diligently been preparing.

  Will you hear him when he calls?

  Acknowledgments

  “A dream is a wish your heart makes . . .” Oh, Disney’s Cinderella, you were so right! Several years ago, my heart had a dream . . . a dream to write a book I believed could offer the healing of God’s love to the world. As I mentioned this dream to others, I was met by a perplexing reaction: “That’s nice, honey . . . but just keep in mind that what you are doing is really writing this book for yourself and your own inner healing.” In other words, don’t set your hopes too high.

  I really didn’t know how to react. Sure, writing is therapeutic, but I had a dream and wasn’t willing to settle for just a personal journal–writing experience. I believed in the message of my story and I believed in myself. So, I continued to follow my heart, wrote my manuscript, and looked for a way to get it out into the world. What a wake-up call that was!

  As I tried to navigate the publishing market on my own, I soon became very discouraged. How was an inexperienced and unknown homemaker turned author going to make a dent in the impossible world of publishing?

  Fortunately, I belong to a wonderful, Spirit-filled eleven-thousand-member church and turned my focus to promoting my story within the women’s ministries. I was invited to lead discussions and speak to large groups, and I was well received. The sharing and healing I witnessed in each and every one of these venues confirmed that the dream of my heart was real and worthwhile. I just wished those experiences could be replicated on a much larger scale.