he walks with me

I love this picture of the Chica I took this past weekend. It embodies her spirit through and through.

Independent. Inquisitive. Dexterous. She's a mover and a shaker, that one.

But it also reminds me of that sweet old hymn, "In the Garden." I can't remember when I first heard that song. I know I was a child, because I loved to picture walking side by side with God, chatting it up.

Why is it when grow up we decide God is too busy to bother with little old us? Too lofty to listen and too swamped to stroll? I don't know the answer. While I go ponder on this/ask Dan/infuse "tarry" into my everyday vocabulary, I'll leave you with the lyrics while the smell of old hymnals and itch of Sunday School clothes come flooding back.

In the Garden
I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear falling on my ear the son of God discloses
And he walks with me and he talks with me and he tells me I am his own
And the joy we share as we tarry there none other has ever known

He speaks and the sound of his voice is so sweet the birds hush their singing
And the melody that he gave to me within my heart is ringing

I'd stay in the garden with him though the night around me is falling
But He bids me go through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling