One charming thing about gardening is that the gardener can make their own rules as each plant is carefully positioned in place. No two gardens are alike. Each garden is an expression of the gardeners personality, just as a poem is an individual creation. A garden expresses something about ones personality whether it be happy, carefree, perfectionist or possibly a melancholy.

There are many different kinds of flowers in my garden, but each plant or bloom has its own specific beauty. The uniqueness of each flower helps me to appreciate the God that designed them. Also, it gives to me an object lesson of how God enjoys variety. If every flower were exactly alike how boring my garden would be.

This reminds me of our wonderful God and how he has designed variety in living humanity. God has made each one of us original. Think of it! When God made you, He threw away the pattern! Even your very fingerprints are unique. Over four billion people in the world and not one of them have a fingerprint like yours. You are special!

You have emerged as God’s special handiwork with your own special traits and skills. You do not look, think, feel, speak, walk or even write exactly like anybody else. That is awesome!


Just a little toil
Mixed with sun and soil
Makes a therapeutic balm,
Nothing else I know
Like my gloves and hoe
Brings such restorative calm.

Values re-arrange
And perspectives change
When I’m master of the sod.
There’s a kindred tie
Between earth and sky
And I’m nearer there to God.

Mind and body, too
Breathe of life anew
And of nature’s wealth avail.
With my hoe in hand
I can tame the land
And my restless soul as well.

—Pearl Hand Cockrell

Wow!  No wonder David said in Psalms 139:13-16, “For Thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are Thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid from Thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being imperfect; and in Thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.”

Author: Lois M. Lobbs