Open Hands in the garden

There comes a moment in every garden when the gardener realizes that growth cannot be forced.

Seeds cannot be pulled upward into bloom.

Rain cannot be commanded.

Seasons cannot be rushed.

The work of the gardener is real—but so are the limits of the gardener.

Our hearts often struggle with this. We carry hopes, longings, and prayers for the future. We imagine how healing should unfold, how relationships should be restored, how doors should open, how the story should end.

And sometimes we try to hold those desires so tightly that we forget to hold them before Christ.

Yet God does not ask us to pretend we have no desires. He invites us to bring them honestly into His presence.

Jesus Himself taught:

"Which one of you would hand his son a stone when he asks for a loaf of bread, or a snake when he asks for a fish?" — Matthew 7:9–10

The Father is not cruel. He is not indifferent. He is not waiting to punish our hopes. He delights in hearing the desires of His children.

But because He is a good Father, He also sees what we cannot.

Perhaps this is why the prayer often attributed to Thomas Merton feels so comforting:

"I have no idea where I am going… but I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You."

What freedom there is in that confession.

We do not have to know exactly how the future will unfold. We do not have to force every answer today. We can simply place our desires in Christ's hands and trust that He knows how to cultivate them in their proper season.

Some desires may bloom exactly as we imagined.

Others may be transformed into something deeper and more beautiful than we could have asked for ourselves.

The invitation is not to stop desiring.

It is to desire with open hands.

To pray honestly:

Lord, this is what I long for.

This is what I fear.

This is what I hope for.

And I trust You more than I trust my own vision of the future.

Then, like a gardener who has planted faithfully, we wait with patience, wonder, and hope.

The future does not belong to us.

It belongs to the One who makes all things grow.

Perhaps peace begins when we stop trying to control tomorrow and start entrusting it to the Father who already holds it.