In the Garden

Rain in North Texas is unlike anywhere else I have lived. It is a rare day that sees a soft, steady rainfall that lasts for hours. Precipitation seems to explode out of the same wild passion that inspires Texans to behave as we do.

A deluge had opened up as I tried to set the water basin in the hole we had dug the day before. The basin was three feet on each side and only twelve inches deep, but was proving difficult to install properly. As I stretched my level across two adjacent sides, it showed that I was a half bubble off plumb.

Anybody that saw me would have agreed.

It was a site to behold. In the middle of a torrential downpour, I was standing over a hole that was filling with water, pouring in a bag of sand in an effort to achieve a smooth, flat, level base. I paused long enough to look to my left and then to my right and laughed out loud at my total solitude. Anyone peering at me through a foggy window pane would have assumed I was a lunatic.

In my mind’s eye though, I was the same little boy who used to stomp in puddles and run as fast as possible before sliding down the slick, grassy hill in the back yard. The caked mud on the double-thick knees of my Toughskin jeans would elicit questions from mom when she found them buried in the laundry, but that was a problem for another day. This moment was filled with the smell of wet leaves, the sounds of pitter-patter surrounding me, and the feel of rain running down my face. There was nothing quite like playing in the rain.

For another hour, I unnecessarily extended the job I was working on. All of my careful efforts would be undone overnight when the wet soil collapsed around the carefully leveled basin, but I didn’t care. Today was more important than accomplishing a task, it was about relishing a simple joy in life.

Eventually, I carried my tools to the truck while my socks squished inside my work boots. During the drive home, the radio sat silent while I listened to the hypnotic “thwip-thwip” of the windshield wipers on high speed.

Why had I ever stopped playing in the rain? How had I forgotten the raw delight?

Over the past two months, the construction of the Prayer Garden has painfully strained muscles, come at a financial cost, and consumed countless hours. However, as I poured myself into the job, God refreshed my spirit, filling me with the innocent joy of my childhood. I have had one of the greatest summers of my life.

The harder I worked on this gift for Him, the more he reminded me that work and play can be the same thing, that spending what I have to glorify Him is part of my created purpose, and that countless hours are only a part of the unending days that we will spend together.

As it nears completion, I am in awe of how it has all come together. My hands may have been at work, but His plan has been in action. It is undeniable as you approach the space that has now been consecrated to Him.

A “welcome” sign invites you to step off the busy sidewalk onto the stone steps that navigate through the garden. In the center is a tall cross, with the distressed look of the old, rugged cross from the hymn. At night, it radiates a golden light that can be seen from blocks away.

Water bubbles out of a stone at the foot of the cross, shining with the fiery light of the Spirit himself. It splashes and gurgles as it bounces off the colorful river rocks, gradually erasing the background noise of Main Street traffic.

Flowers, bushes, and other small plants fill the space with beauty. Green, purple, orange, and white colors grow in a beautiful fabric that only He could weave. Planters separate the benches and provide privacy, even in the midst of the downtown area. In the corner, a small olive tree is reminiscent of ancient stories that still guide us today.

Birds sing and squirrels run across the pine bark nuggets that blanket the ground, encircled by a ring of bricks that mark this ground as hallowed.

Beauty draws you in, but serenity holds you captive. It is the perfect place to sit on the handcrafted, cement benches and enjoy time with our Lord. Whether you bring a spirit of Thanksgiving, a burden of mourning, or a search for answers, He will join you there.

This year, a pandemic provided me with the time to work on building a special present. I took a break from my responsibilities to worship God in my own way, using what He gave me to glorify Him. I hope that other people will find the same peace in this place that I have found. I think they will. That seems to be the way of the Kingdom.

I would like to invite you to take time to visit this special place. It is gorgeous in the day, but spectacular when the sun has set. The address is 206 W Main Street, Lewisville. Parking is plentiful. If you want company, just call me. I’d love to go with you.

P.S. Thank you to everyone who poured themselves into this project, but a special thanks to Steve Thomas, Hank Cates, Steve Hermann, and Kim. It would not have been possible without you. I love you all.