The Gardener

It has become a bit of a tradition to have a “celebration night” to conclude a week of God and Nature classes with Dr. Andrew Shepherd. We clear out the tables and chairs from the dining room, and take time to view or listen to or watch student’s creative responses to questions on humanity’s role in creation and the role of the cross and resurrection. All of the videos and songs and art pieces shared blew everyone away with their level of maturity and thoughtful reflections, so we thought we would include at least one of those pieces to give you a taste of the night. Here is Anne Nusbaum’s poem “The Gardner” accompanied by her art piece “The Garden”:

 

Every story worth hearing begins with

Misadventure,

So let it be known that

Ours

Began with a slip and a

Fall,

With the best of

Intentions

And the worst of

Consequences,

And the shattering of the

Harmony

Of the

World.

Misadventure

Thus setting the scene,

The world spins on.

 

The morning stars continue in their

Chorus

Whilst birds soar and

Rest

And wander near and far.

The sun rises and sets, and

The sparrow finds a

Home

And the swallow a nest for her young.

Flowers blossom and whither as

Forests melt into

Gold

And valleys deck themselves in swaths of grain.

The moon keeps faithful watch as

The rivers harmonize and the hills sing for

Joy.

They gird themselves in

Laughter

As the waterfall roars

And the trees clap their hands

And the mountains skip

And the heavens weep while

Tthe sea crashes—

All in a heavenly

Chorus

For their King.

 

Even the stones of the earth will cry out His

Glory,

And deep will call out to deep

As thunder shakes bones

And wind screams in peals of laughter.

Heaven and earth praise Him—

Seas and lands and all that moves within.

All Creation echoes His

Glory,

In whisper

And bellow

And movement

And rest.

Every moment therein is

Saturated with

Song

For Him.

This, I tell you, is

Good.

 

Now add to this

Chorus

The faltering and broken voice of

Man.

At its best, his voice is

Small;

When he tries to sing louder, the

Harmony

Is fractured.

For his voice is the scrape of

Trowel into earth.

It is the near silent drop of

Seed into earth.

It is the gargle and spit of water carried from

Home to home in the earth,

And the quiet ‘pit-pat’ of a

Slow step on the earth.

It is the gentle touch of cool soil on

Hands

And the humble attention of

“Watch as it grows.”

It is companionship and faithfulness and

Hands

Of grace and strength.

Just as garden is not

Garden

Without its roots and bees,

The chorus

Is not whole without the voice of

Man.

Gardener tending the

Garden—

It is very Good.

 

-Anne Nusbaum

Class ’17 Eastern University

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