How God tends the gardens of our hearts.
by Teresa Harris
In the winter of 2022, just weeks after my dad’s earthly journey ended, I stood gazing out at the lake not far from my home. The soft wind created gentle waves, reflecting the brilliance of the sun.
As I raised my hand to shield my eyes, I noticed how the crystalline sunbeams dancing on the water were perfect imitators of the sparkle in my dad’s piercing blue eyes. Eyes that once held the secrets of anger and fear. It had taken me five decades to look into those eyes and smile back at them. Thoughts that were long ago locked away surfaced, taking me back to the day that put me on a path toward healing.
Emptiness and empathy
Eight years earlier, silent loneliness lingered in every room of my home. Pomp and circumstance had carried my youngest son two thousand miles away, putting me on the same playing field as my dad. He lived alone too.
Hours of quiet emptiness stirred a feeling of empathy as God’s Spirit persistently reminded me to honor and care for my aging parent. Every reminder caused me to cringe at the thought of spending hours with a crabby old man who had inflicted so much emotional heartache in my life.
Reluctant return
Finally, one Saturday afternoon the Holy Spirit nudged me again through a radio preacher. I reluctantly grabbed my red travel bag and a cooler full of snacks that would ward off the temptation to rest my tired eyes.
After a five-minute search for my keys, I plopped my laggard body into the driver’s seat.
As the tires of my minivan trampled the miles beneath them, I wondered why I was making myself vulnerable again. Thirty years had created a cozy barrier against my father’s critical words and angry outbursts.
Childhood memories
As a child, I feared doing anything that would release an avalanche of his degrading comments, spewing through clenched teeth. I smothered my head in my pillow at night so I wouldn’t hear his abusive tirades toward my mother.
Now as an adult, I was too comfortable with phone conversations about the weather or the newest garden gadget. I had no desire to demolish the wall that restrained a flood of emotions waiting to disturb my own reality.
But the silence in my empty car reminded me of the loneliness penetrating my dad’s soul every day. The loneliness that was now putting us on common ground.
Welcoming embrace
The smell of pine trees mingled with cigarette smoke put my nerves on high alert as I knocked on the meticulously clean door. A much older version my dad wrapped me in an unfamiliar embrace. His piercing blue eyes looked welcoming instead of angry. I could feel my shoulders soften as I leaned into his unusual display of affection.
There was something distinctly different about his voice — happy, with a hint of “Please stay awhile.” I released myself from his embrace, and that is when I noticed the sparkle in his eyes. Something had changed him.
Secrets
We spent hours in his tenderly cared for garden, talking and watching the hummingbirds zip from flower to flower. Dad did most of the talking, revealing the secret things of his childhood that had made him an angry man. Every story gave me a new understanding of this man I really did not know.
A fresh feeling of compassion began to grow in my heart as the Master Gardener pruned the thorns of anger and bitterness that had pierced my heart after one specific incident.
Cruel betrayal
When I was eleven years old, barely entering puberty, my father and my uncle singled me out during the weekly Sunday dinner. Pulling my shirt tight against my chest, they announced to all the cousins that my body was beginning to change.
The sound of my dad’s laughter tore through my soul. How could he betray me in such a cruel way? I wanted to confront him, but fear of his angry eyes and clenched teeth had power over me. Instead, I buried the anger and bitterness in the soil of my heart.
Changed perception
As I sat in my dad’s tranquil garden processing the stories of his childhood, I began to understand why he was such an angry person. One truth from God’s Word kept circulating through my mind: The sins of today affect the children of tomorrow. He had suffered so much pain and loss through no fault of his own.
The Holy Spirit used this truth to change the perception I had about my father. The buried anger and bitterness from so long ago were unearthed and washed away like a chalk drawing in a rainstorm.
Transformation
Spring and summer visits over the next eight years replaced meaningless phone conversations. Past hurts dissolved into a pool of new memories.
A loving father-daughter relationship blossomed as God transformed the years the locust had eaten. The sparkle in my dad’s piercing blue eyes finally arrested the fear that restrained as a smile from my lips.
Disturbing signs
I looked forward to the visits with my dad after a long, lonely winter. But like a bug hiding in a brilliant rose, the summer of 2021 claimed the healing that had taken place between us. Dad’s eighty-three-year-old body began to fail him.
An unkept garden sent a wave of alarm through my mind. His life was wrapped around caring for his beloved plants. Dad would grind through the most grueling pain just to keep his hands in the moist soil.
Now the periwinkle vinca had crept beyond its borders, invading the bright orange dahlias. Long strands of grass mingled together, forming a much-too-high carpet of green.
Deteriorating health
Then one day the pain in Dad’s side reached a climax. Test results declared a minor problem and quick resolution. But he knew. A sadness had stolen its way into those blue eyes. I left not knowing if I would ever smile back at them again.
By December, Dad’s body had shrunken to an unrecognizable shadow of a strong, vibrant man. Yet the sparkle continued to prompt a smile from me. I longed for more days together in his tranquil garden, sharing life and soaking up the unconditional love I needed as a young girl.
Final days
Instead, my days were spent at Dad’s bedside, holding his hand and soothing his pain-racked body. Every evening alone in my childhood home, I opened my Bible to the Psalms. David’s laments were my constant companion. His praises were my inspiration for choosing to live in God’s presence while sitting in that tiny hospital room every day.
As my dad’s life ebbed away, the sparkle in his eyes dimmed, and a whisper with a hint of “Please stay awhile” escaped my quivering lips. Five days later, my father’s eyes closed for the final time, extinguishing that life-giving sparkle.
Life lessons
Photos littered the faded brown carpet. A lifetime of milestones lined up like soldiers portrayed a man who lived a full life. I studied a photo of my father with his grown daughter and reflected on the miracle of healing that had taken place between us.
I realized other things as well. God truly is the powerful healer of broken relationships, even when we are not intentionally moving toward restoration. I saw that the Holy Spirit worked through my loneliness to convict me of my responsibility to honor and care for my parent. My obedience allowed God to perform an amazing and unexpected miracle in our relationship.
Obedience and provision
I’ve learned that obedience always allows us to experience God’s provision. We can see this truth played out in the Bible when Jesus tells Peter to let out his net after a long night of unsuccessful fishing. Peter counters by telling Jesus he worked all night but brought in nothing. However, because Jesus had requested it, Peter obeys. Jesus embraces Peter’s obedience and uses it to perform a faith-altering miracle.
Only God can rouse our hearts toward obedience. Only God can use our obedience to do more than we can ever think or imagine.
New harvest
It has been almost a year since my dad’s earthly journey ended. Because of God’s gift of healing, I have no regrets. I am at peace with our relationship.
The seeds of anger and bitterness buried for so long were transformed into a harvest of love and companionship. What a gracious miracle, what a gracious God!
About the Author
Teresa Harris is involved in Bible Study Fellowship and has learned how to apply God’s truths to her life. This story is her first published piece. Teresa lives in Nampa, ID.