Walking Our Easter Garden Series
Feast Of The Ascension
This week, we pause at the Ascension — that holy moment of looking upward, trusting what we cannot yet see,
and waiting for the promised Spirit. Next week, at Pentecost, the garden path will open outward.
and waiting for the promised Spirit. Next week, at Pentecost, the garden path will open outward.
The Glass Garden Globe
Morning comes quietly to the garden.
The jasmine rests along the trellis.
The windchimes are still now, where the breeze left them.
After all these weeks of walking, the path feels familiar.
But today the light catches something.
Near the roses, a glass garden globe rests low against the earth.
Someone long ago placed it there where the light could reach it.
It does not shine on its own.
It needs the garden —
the soil beneath it,
the sun above it,
and the open sky around it.
In the morning light, the globe begins to glow.
The sky settles softly across the glass.
A single young tree shows up in its reflection.
Even the path beneath one’s feet finds its way into the light.
Pause for a moment and watch the reflection move.
Nothing in the garden has changed.
And yet everything seems drawn upward into the light.
That quiet blanket of light becomes a kind of road.
It leads our thoughts toward the day of the Ascension.
For a time, Jesus walked beside His friends.
They heard His voice.
They shared meals together.
They watched Him bring peace into the middle of their fear.
And then one day, as they stood together,
He was lifted from their sight.
A cloud received Him.
Clouds do not hide the sun.
They simply remind us how much larger the sky is.
The garden is still here.
The jasmine keeps climbing.
The windchimes wait quietly for the next breeze.
The path still lies before us.
But something has changed.
The Master Gardener has gone before us.
Not to leave the world behind,
but to draw it gently upward.
And perhaps that is what the globe reflects now.
Earth below.
Sky above.
Light gathering everything toward heaven.
Today it is enough simply to look up