The Gardener 
By Hal Haralson
Attorney in Austin, Texas

Judy and I walked in our garden before going to work this morning.

Serious gardeners would smile at our use of the term. It is the rocky slope of the hill on which our house was built 20 years ago.

The "soil" on this hillside west of Austin is very shallow. We had an agent from the County Agricultural office come out and test our soil.

She returned after walking the property and smiled. "You don't have any soil."

But there are flowers. Some plants we have introduced. Others are native.

I noticed two plants this morning that had small green leaves peeking out from the dead ones. They had died because of the intense heat of the simmer.

I'm glad I left them alone. They were not dead at all. 

A rose bush we set out has struggled to produce two blooms.

The Texas Bird of Paradise, one of the most beautiful plants I have ever seen, will take two years to reach its full potential. It will die back to the ground in the winter.

A small white flower pokes its head out from behind a rock. It's almost as if it was afraid someone might see it and expect more.

The brilliant yellow of the wild ragweed dominates the garden. This plant is a "weed" most of the year.

There are times when I feel I'm not meeting anyone's expectations, especially God's or my own. Dormant is a good word.

I'm glad God does not expect year-round blooms. He's patient. He knows there is a time and a season for everything.

At times I feel like the little white flower peeking from the rock. I'm afraid someone will see me and ask why I'm hiding.

There is a place in God's garden for little white flowers. 

I hear Roger Paynter [Hal's pastor] speak, or I read the writing of Paula D'Arcy and find myself wishing I could be like them.

There are plants with brilliant blooms in God's garden. He gives each of us a place to bloom at our own pace and in our own way.

As I walk down the steps to leave the garden, I notice a group of dead plants. Leave them alone!

The Texas gardener recognizes the Bluebonnet that paints our hillsides in April. These are times when I'm dormant. It seems I'll never bloom again. I'm glad God is patient.

I'm thankful that God gives us all a place in His garden. It would not be nearly as beautiful if we all bloomed alike.

Updated Wednesday, June 13, 2001