After the storm
Every gardener knows that storms are inevitable.
Some storms pass quickly.
Others leave broken branches, damaged roots, and flowers lying in the dirt.
The Master Gardener never ignores the damage left by the storm. He is always ready to begin mending the garden with infinite patience and care. Yet because love never coerces, He waits for our invitation. He stands at the gate of the garden, knocking gently, never forcing His way in. He honors the freedom He Himself has given us, inviting us to entrust each wounded place to Him in His perfect time.
Our hearts are much the same.
When we experience deep wounds, something within us often shifts from living to surviving.
Like Adam and Eve in the garden, our instinct is to hide.
We cover ourselves.
We withdraw.
We strive for control.
We become guarded.
Not just because we're weak...
But because we've been hurt.
One of the beautiful insights shared through St. John Paul II's Healing the Whole Person ministry is that our wounds often give rise to patterns of self-protection. Like Adam and Eve hiding among the trees, those patterns may have felt safe at the time, helping us survive what seemed unbearable. Yet what once felt like safety can eventually become the very thing that keeps us from receiving Love.
Jesus shows us another way.
He experienced rejection.
He was misunderstood.
He was betrayed by friends.
He wept.
He suffered.
Yet He never closed His heart to the Father.
He remained vulnerable to Love, even when Love led Him to the Cross.
It means allowing the places that have been wounded to remain open to the healing work of God.
Like a faithful gardener tending branches broken by a storm, Christ never rushes the healing.
He doesn't shame the broken places.
He simply stays.
Patiently pruning.
Patiently strengthening.
Patiently cultivating new life where pain once seemed to have the final word.
The storms we have endured are not within our control.
But how we respond today is.
Will we continue building walls around the wounded places?
Or will we open the gate of our garden and allow the Master Gardener to begin His gentle work, even when healing feels uncomfortable?
Healing rarely happens all at once.
It happens as we entrust one wounded place at a time to the One who knows how to make all things new.
Perhaps today, spend a few quiet moments with the Master Gardener.
Ask Him:
Where am I merely surviving instead of truly thriving?
What patterns of self-protection have become barriers to receiving Your love?
What wounded place are You gently inviting me to entrust to You today?
The Master Gardener never tires of tending the places we have hidden.
He simply waits to be welcomed into them.
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." — Psalm 34:18
