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The Prayer Seeker

with the clarification of Michael’s relationship with Alan, rising from the confession of
wrongdoing and the unstated forgiveness, then his vision has become less clouded. If
Chris were here, perhaps he would talk of repented sin and the release from it that God
gives, but he is not here, and Michael is instead content to let the sun, the garden and the
beauty do its own work.
Because the garden is very beautiful, and carries its peace lightly: an exuberance of
prayer flowing over him, filling him up until Michael is almost laughing with the glory of
it. There are early roses in abunda nce, the scent of them lacing the air, and also two more
apple trees, plus a variety of other trees he cannot possibly name, and doesn’t even want
to. Within this, there are shaded places, benches, chairs, even a sundial and a small
fountain, though the noise of this does not disturb him.
Funny how the story of God starts and ends, or rather begins again, in a garden, and
Michael has never quite seen it like that before. Not only that, but he remembers only a
few short months ago the day when he’d left work to pursue his journey of prayer and
had sat in his living room and gazed at the picture of the white garden stairs on his wall.
He’d wanted to reach a kind of a garden with a promise of light, and perhaps in some
ways he has, or is at least on the way to doing so.
For now, he lets the place he is actually in enter and dwell in him. It is enough, and
God is enough.
Later, he will eat, sit awhile longer, bathe in the prayer and sense of something other
that is all around and within him, where he wants it to be. He smiles, closes his eyes,
accepts there and then whatever the future will be.
And all the while he understands the truth: that God is a garden and, in that truth,
Michael can grow.