Life is a garden and the garden a metaphor, here today and gone tomorrow. Soul work is forever, continuous planting, pruning and nourishing to reap a harvest of eternity.

We worked together last night, digging out soil, preparing the path and laying stone. It unfolded before us, this place for feet. My girl pulled and pulled persistent weeds, big boy raked soil flat and little guys dragged and dumped unwieldy bags of stones, small hands spreading them to the edge of the dug up space, voices exclaiming as the way became clear before us.

We walked back and forth on it, pebbles pressing up into soles. Flowers planted in woodchips alongside brightened with beauty and we followed to its conclusion.

We talked in the garden at days end, big boy and I. Younger siblings sent to bed and we had some moments. This night offered no staying up late or family movie to watch. Life’s path today had been rocky, resistant and stayed that way too long.

I told him of the reaping and sowing. “Sow cooperation and reap celebration” I said. “But if you plant defiance and difficulty then blessing can’t grow.” We labored in the evening cool, together, enjoying, but the time for family festivities had been pushed too late into the hours, so would be saved for another sunset.

Tonight the victory was in our quiet conversation, for a boy with a receptive heart and willing hands. It was in eyes meeting and quiet “yes Mom”. It was in prayers said together before shutting out his light, in seeing the way before us and walking tentatively in it.

It was in grace at the end of a day and the mercy waiting for us in the morning.