Thursday, 23 October 2008


N.B. Have you ever seen the film, The Secret Garden? I used to watch it a lot as a kid.

Quick background info here: In the film, Mary, a young girl who doesn't know how to cry, is sent to live with her reclusive uncle after losing her parents in an earthquake in India. Whilst staying at his house, she discovers her bedridden, "crippled" cousin, Colin, hidden away from the world. She also finds a secret garden that is present somewhere in the middle of a vast array of gardens, but no-one knows how to get into it, because the door is locked and hidden. Having found a key hidden in her deceased aunt's room, Mary retrieves it and eventually finds the door to unlock it. She enters the garden, but everything looks dead and unkempt.

After sharing this secret with her new friend Dickon, he informs her that the garden is very much alive. It just needs seeds to grow and a bit of love and attention. The same is true with Colin. She eventually manages to get him outside, into the garden, and between the three of them, the garden becomes a place of healing for the girl, and eventually for her uncle and cousin who are still grieving the loss of their mother/wife. Colin learns to walk, her uncle learns to laugh, and Mary learns to cry.

I feel like my life recently has very much been twining through these series of events. I know that there is a secret garden down inside of me, and I have found the key. Maybe, amongst it all, I have even found the door as well. But entering through it, and looking around at all things that right now, look dead and unkempt, is a process I am struggling through. I am in the winter of my garden, when things need to die and fall away to make space for the new things to grow once more in the spring. The time when seeds sleep beneath the surface in the dampened darkness. The time when the earth is hard to break, and the cold mist settles harshly on the ground. But, like all winters, it will not last forever. The spring will come, and life will spring up once more. The emptiness of the winter will fall away as the bright colours bloom across the ground. The trees will grow leaves, and fresh shoots will grow up into the light. I know that eventually, God will bring healing to this place. And maybe then, I will learn to cry once more.
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