The Journey Begins Day1

Blogging and Slogging through Cancer AND THE JOURNEY BEGINS

In My Father's Garden a lowly, crushed and bruised bush wept. Other flowers in the garden glistened with gold and silver and purple droplets. Their glow came from the gardener. But she did not glisten in the warmth of the garden. Her tears had marked the soil with scars, and the bruises on her pedals marred her beauty. But all the flowers turned when the tears touched the earth and filled the garden with an aroma that healed the soul. It was the scent of suffering they smelled and they were amazed at the splendor of her tears. She looked up at the gardener and His radiance filled her with love all the way to the essence of her being. Her tears that scarred the earth had become the oil of joy anointing the feet of the Gardner.