The Garden

I am in my garden.

Tending my flowers.

Taking care of those most fragile and vulnerable.

Giving them support and nourishment.

Helping them bloom and thrive.

Helping them grow strong.

What is my garden?

Why do I work there?

Why do I get down on my knees, bend my back, and dig my hands into the soil?

Why do I spend a hot day under the sun?

The master gardener beholds rewards in his acts of loving kindness.

Not rewards for the acts, but rewards in the acts themselves.

Rewards that live in the sound flowers make when they're growing.

A sound that cannot be described, only felt as a happy song inside the soul.

If I am patient and quiet in my garden, if I strip away all the noise, I can hear that sound.

I can hear my guerdon, the soundmate and soulmate of garden, which means reward.