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When I was a little girl, hanging in my first bedroom was a wood plank with a poem written on it. I remember reading it often and liking the rhyme and lyrical nature of the poem, but there was one line that captivated my attention as the years passed and I became a preteen:

"For 'round, my garden fence stands firm to guard my heart so I can learn, who should enter and who should wait, on the other side of my locked gate."

I can still call that part of the poem to mind. It was once a warning to me of sorts, now I see it as a lesson in stewarding.

This poem is the inspiration for the piece I have written below. The memory aligned with a recent coaching session in which I mentioned a change in myself I like. For context, the concept of home is a very precious space to me, and an idea that I know not everyone gets the privilege of having for long seasons. Words like safe do not always describe home for many people. My journey with homing had, until recently, always been just out of my reach, out of my control, or never owned. However, I have recognized the aforementioned change toward deeper roots for the first time in my life because I finally feel at home. And I wrote in my journal this phrase “my soul has found its home.”

Enjoy.

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My garden gate is open; it is finally time. Years have been spent cultivating this space. It's been savored already, and it is my joy to share it with you. The hours are posted on a hanging plack right on the white picket fence gate.

Come in and notice with delight! Soak up the inspiration. Talk to the flowers, watch them laugh in the wind. Hopefully, you will find your soul mended a little, blooming a little.

While here, snip off a little token of what you see so you can plant it in your own. Then, sit, eat, walk around, touch, and interact with the different groupings of greens, trees, and florals blooming there. For each section is a memory for me, that rooted and established what would be.

But if you please, mind the hours posted at the gate. There are also a few ground rules enforced here while you play. Such is the way with valuable things.

There is no need to steal here and no need to plaster your name on my spaces. My garden can't be yours! You didn't plant it or till the ground, pull the weeds, or dream over it. If you are willing to do the work, yours has all the potential it needs to be great.

No offer can be made to make me sell my garden either. Should you be a nay-sayer or someone with a perfection mindset, you won't enjoy my garden. So leave it for the people who do. Find someone else's garden to leave your feedback with, complaints will not be taken here.

Yes, this garden is feminine in design and contains a wild beauty too. To prefer only the masculine spaces, for example, the rugged wilderness, is to miss out on some of my impact and remarkable contributions. I know what grows here and what does not. I'm not chasing after things beyond my boundaries. Should you find yourself left with needs unmet, I am fine with that.

Comparison is another unwelcome form of feedback here. To say your garden is not....... enough is to cut off the value of my inspiration because you have buckled from under the weight of doubting your own. This garden might have a little pink, maybe not enough for some...as always, with this feedback, I know just what to do with it.

In case you have yet to notice, this garden is to be delighted in and is an interactive space in which to play. It is a place of sparkling wonder! If you are not looking for those things, please find your way out. If you are, you will find rest for your soul and strength to contribute to the lake of creative expansion many have added to before.

Soak up some sunshine among the Poincianas and Plumeria trees and discover my treehouse! There are engraved gold rigs tied with twine to select limbs of its tree. You will find the message your heart needs inside as you pick a souvenir from this space. Blue butterflies also find rest there. A little further in, there is a gum tree with a giant swing overlooking a mountain lake. On it, you feel like the wind is carrying you, picking you up so you can embrace the clouds. I value the importance of these sweet, childlike things.

A few more ground rules to go to help keep the peace. Don't move in your daggy recliner by your favorite perch, as a territory claimer, and try to live. Remember, this is my garden; you have your own home. Coming and going is all that is welcome here. This space is open and available only for the day. Once it's closing time, you must go away. Trespassers, even those who love the place, are escorted beyond the locked gate. A garden of delight must rest, recharge, and wrap itself in the glory of silence. These ebbs and flows are necessary for it to continue to thrive.

Best of all, and what makes it worth it, are the secret places in this garden. How can something so lovely be that good up close? Come in and find out! You will never tire of the process once you've experienced the first. Secrets don't call out to people; they beckon only the curious. Those who see in the realm of mystery, you know what I mean!

Can you notice hidden beauty? Then you will find these secret, sacred places far more beautiful than those available at first glance. Few find these, and of those, they gained the deepest places by invitation. My garden has layers; the closer to its heart, the more sacred the space. These deeps are not open for those who are simply polite. They are given to those with slow, controlled gestures of kindness. When found, they reveal a need, but they meet it with gifts; Gifts of beauty for the openly beautiful soul and deep for the deep. But only to those who can be vulnerable.

Time is a factor in these unique spaces and offers them protection. You see, those who are cruel and controlling never make it very deep inside my garden. They lose interest quickly, which suits me just fine. But, on the other hand, those who've made it to these deep and favorite spaces say there is nothing else like them; they are irreplaceable. Can you imagine?

Inside the deep, my favorites leave a tiny part of their own heart, and the space shifts to memorialize what was sweet of experiencing them. Yet, even these can never alter the truest core characteristics of the deep.

Treat my garden well, and you'll find life in this space. Harm it, cheat it, use it up, and the area will shrink and close up. You'll never get back in to enjoy what was. I have learned how to keep open, who should enter and who should wait. That I took a risk and gave you a tour says much about my faith.

It is closing time now; I must go lock the gate. I hope you'll come again another day.