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In the Garden of Hearts “Huh,” I pondered with a pout on my lips. “Grandma, what
does that mean?” “It means, don’t ask ‘Why?’” She hugged me close. “Just know that I love you, and I’m doing what people do who love someone.” I put my arm around her neck and nuzzled my nose to her face. “I love you too, Grandma,” forgetting all about whatever I had wanted that got the ‘No’ response, and the silly saying for my retort of ‘Why?’ Grandma had glaucoma and could barely see. However, she saw better with her spiritual eyes than most do with their physical eyes. She listened to my voice and knew instantly my heart. Slight changes of tone or pitch clued Grandma to action. When I needed uplifting, she would tap her toes, and begin singing, “I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses; and…” Then she would take my hand and swing it with hers. By the chorus, I was singing at the top of my lungs; “And He walks with me and He talks with me, and He tells me I am his own.” Again, joy had filled my sorrow.
She’s in God’s choir now, but she left her priceless treasures of love
and faith in Jesus in the heart of her granddaughter. Her memory
always makes me sing, “and the joy we share as we tarry there, none
other has ever known.”
-Brenda
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