in the garden (II)

We found her in the dining room, alone at a table with a plate of congealed food in front of her. So we pushed her wheelchair out to the garden in back and sat on either side of her.

Tall elms and oaks shaded us. The recorded bullfrog sounded its rabid growl over the peaceful sound of the fountain. We admired the roses - yellow, orange, red. Time slowed and there was nothing more important than sitting with her, each holding one of her hands. (It reminded me of what I'd said about holding my baby nephew, that there is nothing more important than sitting still, holding a baby.) Sitting still with my soon-to-be-91-year-old mother-in-law ranks right up there.

When we returned inside, we decided to go hear the singing.

Picture this. The rehabilitation room lined with wheelchairs and people in various stages of awareness. One pajama-clad woman signed the words as the group sang. Another woman gestured us closer so we could see the singing group. A man slumped forward, looking at the floor.

When the song leaders began the hymns, oh the wonder of hearing the onlookers sing! "Count your blessings, name them one by one!" they sang with gusto and conviction. "Trust and obey - for there's no other way - to be happy in Jeeeeee-sus - but to trust and obey!" The hunchbacked woman next to me sang strong and low, and smiled at me when I glanced her way.

Things were wrapping up, and they only had time for two more songs. They hadn't asked for requests, but I had in mind if they did, I would ask for In the Garden.

"Oh, we've got to do this one," the leader said.

"I come to the garden alone...," he began.

How is it that God always, always knows? How is it that he ever bestows?

Tonight He walked with me and he talked with me and he told me I am His own.

In the garden.