Mom is getting older, but her backyard is still beautiful. I know that one of the things I’ll always remember about her is her love for flowers. She told me last week that she gets up in the mornings and walks through her garden talking to God. And that sometimes, He talks back. Then she reminded me that there was a hymn about this:

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
The son of God discloses.

And he walks with me and he talks with me
And he tells me I am his own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known.

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