Coffee now in hand, I settled in one of the white wicker rocking chairs on the screened front porch and immediately began to miss my surroundings.  The warmth of the spring sunshine had already pushed back the cool air of the night before.  Birds were singing and asking for seed, while the squirrels scurried to and fro among the branches of the canopy of oaks that covered the quaint white frame house I had been renting for the previous year and a half.    Spring perennials swayed in perfect union with the slight breeze that passed over the earth.  Sassy, my three-year-old chow chow was curled by my feet.  The independence of living alone and doing things on my timetable would soon be gone.  All too quickly my thoughts began to drown out the solitude and joy that had enveloped me that morning.

            I began to look back a lot and see patterns in my life that were beginning to scare me.    How many times had I been standing at this same threshold ... the threshold of starting over ... the threshold that would launch me through another door into an unknown?  My life seemed like a maze, each road stopping just short of the end and then forcing an abrupt turn or dead-end.  I did not know how to complete anything; and life didn't seem to allow me that luxury at various times ... all I knew was to run away and start over.  Although I considered myself to be a committed person, I realized my commitment seemed to always end before the fulfillment.  Overcoming and working through adversity was not my forte.  But I had never really examined my life before as I was now beginning to do.  Life had always taken me by the horns; now I was to learn how to take life by the horns.

            Everything was packed and ready for mom and dad to come and get me; too much thinking while awaiting their arrival, so I decided to turn on the TV just for some company.   I turned it to PTL.  I wasn't even listening, just pacing and waiting, and doubting that I had made the right decision to move back home. 

            Then I heard the voice of one of my favorite evangelists as he sat at his piano and began to minister so I turned my attention to the screen.  He said, looking straight in the camera with his deep piercing eyes and fervent exhortation: you're life was not meant to be a garbage pile but a flower garden.  You are not mediocre.  God is going to turn your life around . . . Then I heard the horn blow that brought me out of the intensity of the moment.  Even amidst the hugs and kisses and initial conversation with mom and dad, those words played over and over in my mind like a phonograph needle that was stuck on a record: you're life was not meant to be a garbage pile but a flower garden.  You are not mediocre.  God is going to turn your life around.   Those words became a part of me and nearly drowned out daddy's commanding tone that seemed like a distant voice as he uttered, "I have a lot of work to do so lets get going."  Off went the television.  Since I had packed my car the night before all that was left were a few additional boxes and miscellaneous items that would only fit in the back of a truck.  It took less than 10 minutes to load the remainder of my belongings in his white Chevy pick-up and we were off. 

            Although the trip seemed longer than usual, it provided ample time for my thoughts to wander.  I realized it had been a very long time since my emotions were in such turmoil.  I felt bondage beginning to overtake me; more powerful than before I became a believer.  I tried to shake these feelings, but wasn't successful; even after playing praise tapes:  singing and having my usual conversations with God about everything and anything.  I reasoned within myself that moving back home was the right thing to do; that it would feel good returning to the country and seeing family and old friends again.  But, I was still apprehensive; the free spirit I had become so accustomed to was being smothered and I didn't know why.

            As soon as we got home my mom prepared lunch and we sat down to eat.  Just as I was about to take the first bite of my sandwich, to my surprise, daddy began to pray.  First time ever.  We never prayed before meals unless there was a family gathering and then someone else always did it.  It was like music to my ears and totally unexpected. His expression after he prayed was like one of a little child that had just done something he was hoping would please his father.  Joy took over and we had a very pleasant lunch.  It was precious hearing him pray and hope of his salvation sprang up in my heart.  The heaviness that had burdened me coming home was beginning to lift and I began to think that this indeed might have been the Lords will after all.       

            About half way through the meal daddy said, "I have a project for you.  Remember where we used to burn the trash out back?  Well, I want you to take that old garbage pile and turn it into a flower garden."   I almost choked on the bite of sandwich I had been chewing.  I had just heard those very words prior to them coming to pick me up only a few hours earlier.  They went off in my head like a firecracker.  You're life was not meant to be a garbage pile but a flower garden.  You are not mediocre.  God is going to turn your life around, I rehearsed them over and over again.

            Daddys words brought me back to earth as he continued,  "I have hauled off the surface trash and run the tiller through the ground so all you need to do is dig down a bit and see what else you can get out.  Then when you think you have gotten all the trash out, me and you and momma will go down to Akins, (the feed and seed store for farmers) and pick out some flower seeds to plant."  I think I knew at that moment how Mary felt when the Angel told her she was going to bear the Son of God.   Excitement and expectation were conceived in the womb of my spirit and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God was up to something.