1 June 2011

That St Eustachius’ is a part of the ‘whole church’ throughout the world, throughout time and eternity is something that awes me. To sit quietly in St Eustachius’ church and to be surrounded by stones which have borne silent witness to so many prayers over 700 years is a great privilege. R. S. Thomas, one of my favourite Welsh poets who was also a priest, spent a lifetime grappling with God, often expressing his frustration with God’s apparent absence in his life and the apparent uselessness of prayer, before he found himself writing the following words one day:

“Prayers like gravel flung at the sky’s window,

hoping to attract the loved one’s attention.

But without visible plaits to let down for the believer to climb up,

to what purpose open that far casement?

I would have refrained long since

but that peering once through my locked fingers

I thought that I detected the movement of a curtain.” 

I don’t know about you, but ‘the movement of a curtain’ for me tends to take place not simply when I am in church, but also when I am outdoors – more often than not when I am in a garden. For me, there is something really special about gardening, perhaps because plant life is created by God and, when we work with plants, we experience a closeness to God.

As a child I remember spending vast amounts of time with my grandfather in his garden – and what a garden it was! He was a great big bear of a man, with hands as big as shovels – and yet his garden was a precisely planned oasis. As a family we grew our own vegetables and salad – and I would love those times spent with my grandfather digging, planting, weeding and watering – and most of all harvesting. I still remember the enjoyment I had walking amidst row upon row of fine flowers – each chosen for a particular scent or colour or texture; my grandfather’s garden doubled as the village’s florist shop and he was kept particularly busy when there were weddings or funerals.

Many people view gardens as special places filled with peace and pleasure; they are an escape from the pressures of the world. For some though they are an equivalent to a sanctuary. There is an old saying: "you are nearer to God in a garden".

In the Bible the Garden of Eden represents paradise, but the narrative shows how even in idyllic surroundings pride and rebellion can surface and human beings can be so easily led astray. In another garden - Gethsemane - Jesus struggled with his human frailty, and it was in a garden close by Calvary that the risen Jesus first appeared to his followers, thereby offering eternal life for his followers. Enough said.

William Henry Davies wrote:

 “What is this life if, full of care,

we have no time to stand and stare.”

 We live such busy lives – and yet, if only we would stop for a short while, simply stop to catch our breath and to drink in the world surrounding us, given half a chance we might just catch a glimpse of the wonder of God. We might see it in a daisy, a lazily trailing clematis, or in the swooping of a swallow or swift; we might smell it in newly cut grass or lavender bushes; we might hear it in the song of the thrush or feel it in the touch of a summer’s sun on our face. Or, if you are a cricketer like my husband and son, you might even taste it in the jam laced scones of a cricket cream tea!

Taking time to enjoy a garden can sometimes help us to recognise the awesome power that is God – a power that can transform even the barest patch of earth into a veritable feast for the senses. So, consider this: if God can thus transform a bare patch of earth, what more might God transform in our lives, if only we would allow God to do so?

When we enjoy someone else’s garden, we may well be inspired to go and create our own – to plant our own seeds. And if we find ourselves making a habit of searching for, and seeing, God in our life, we may find ourselves sowing different kinds of seeds – seeds of kindness, seeds of joy, seeds of love. We may even find ourselves beginning to weed out those things that invade the little patches that are our lives.

I wonder what would happen if each one of us were to make a special effort to sow just one good seed every day, if each one of us tried our best to make our own tiny corner of God’s world more like the paradise God intends it to be? And I wonder what would happen if each one of us was to find the time to sit in quiet contemplation once a day and be able to listen for the still, soft voice within – whether in a garden or in St Eustachius’ church? Who knows, we might more readily glimpse that ‘movement of a curtain’ . . .

Enjoy the summer months.

With very best wishes

Wendy