I’ve been thinking a lot lately about a woman I met at the nursing home perhaps a year before her very sudden and unexpected home-going back in 2016.
 
I’ll call her Ginny, just because it’s one of my favorite names and she was one of my favorite people. Still is, in fact. I have such fond memories of our visits. She’s one of those I’m most looking forward to seeing again in heaven.  And she’s someone I hope I’ll have sense enough to emulate should the Lord leave me here well into old age, in a position to make friends or scare them away.
 
The first thing I learned about Ginny was that she was blind. In her early 90s by the time I met her, she’d lost her sight to macular degeneration when she was in her 50s. Yet she was not at all bitter about it, and did not even seem to be sad about it. I’ve often wondered why. It’s possible that after almost half a lifetime of darkness, she was simply used to it. Or maybe her attitude toward death and heaven – her acceptance of the first and longing for the second – kept her focused on the glories that would eventually fill her eyes for all eternity.
 
Over the years, I’ve known a fair number of people with no interest in books. Ginny was not one of them; she had always been a passionate reader. And she didn’t let being blind stop her. She “read” books constantly on tape. She was a regular and avid customer of the Wisconsin Talking Books and Braille Library, a wonderful and apparently free service providing the blind with an easy-to-use tape player and a steady stream of recordings to delight the heart and mind.
 
I found it interesting that Ginny never asked for a specific genre of book, never even designated fiction or non-fiction as her preference. She was interested in absolutely everything, and her ever-changing library of tapes proved it. She entertained some of the most bizarre biographies I’ve ever heard of. Found fascinating stories about everything from animals to arctic exploration. Listened to instructional books on subjects as far-flung as planting a garden, quilting and managing your investments – things she had no practical use for at all. And she rarely met a novel she didn’t like.
 
Most important, Ginny loved to have a visitor read the Bible to her. Loved it, too, when that visitor had time to discuss some aspect of God and His love and His justice. She didn’t claim encyclopedic knowledge of scripture. In fact, she was more likely to raise questions than answer them. She was immensely curious about everything to do with the Lord and His gospel. Which meant that, if you shared her interest, a visit with her would always be stimulating, enlightening, and just plain lovely.  
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I normally visited Ginny twice a week, on Monday and again on Friday. And she always welcomed me with open arms. Except for the last time I saw her. That fateful day, her stomach was upset, she said, and she’d just as soon put off our visit until she felt better. It was a Friday afternoon, and I remember being disappointed, and saying a quick prayer for her prompt recovery—a selfish prayer, no doubt, because I so thoroughly enjoyed our time together.
 
When I arrived at the nursing home the following Monday, I learned that Ginny had been hospitalized Friday night and had died on Sunday afternoon. Her daughters later told me that she had been in good spirits throughout this last phase of her life, joking with everyone from the hovering nurses and to the many family members who had gathered in response to an urgent summons from the hospital.
 
To this day, I’m sorry for Ginny’s family, for the nursing-home aides and nurses who loved her, and for myself. She was truly one in a million, five-star, solid gold and I'm far from alone in saying that I really miss her. It’s comforting, however, to think of her safely home in heaven, her vision restored and no doubt better than ever, taking in sights so glorious that we can’t even begin to imagine them in this fallen world.
 
I just wish she'd had a chance to promise me, before she left, "I'll see you there."

Picture this: You're an aging widow living in a house that has become way too big for you. Winter is relatively easy; all you have to do is dust and vacuum. But spring makes you weak in the knees, because that garden you built 50 years ago is begging for attention that you haven't been able to give it for years. Now that the daffodils are coming up, you can no longer ignore it: You go out and prune a few roses, rake up a bag or two of leaves and retreat to your recliner, overwhelmed and aching, wondering what in the world you were thinking when you replaced all that lawn with flower beds.

If that sounds like someone you know, and you've got some extra energy and strength to spare, maybe the coming spring will be your chance to lend a hand -- and in the process to develop a Christ-honoring relationship with her. 

If she's already a Christian, you'd be obeying the Lord's command to love one another (see John 13 and 15, for starters). And if she's not -- well, what better way to show the love of Christ than to help her complete a job that's probably breaking her heart?   

You don't have to be an experienced gardener. She will teach you all you need to know. In fact, she'll probably work at your side, finding new joy in spring clean-up now that she's no longer undertaking it alone. 

And what an opportunity to present the gospel! The spring garden offers ample opportunities to talk about the word of God. For instance:

• Pruning a vine or shrub? Refer to John 15. "I am the true vine," Jesus said, "and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit." Just think of the insights she could lend to this metaphor.
• If you’re helping to prepare and plant a seedbed, consider 1 Corinthians 15 and the metaphor that the apostle Paul used to address the question of our resurrected bodies. "What you sow is not made alive unless it dies," he wrote. "And what you sow, you do not sow that body that shall be, but mere grain..."  What a compelling lead-in to a discussion of heaven.
• When clean-up is complete, perhaps you’ll be moved to compare the results to the perfection of the Garden of Eden in Genesis 2 and 3.  For it was here that the Master Gardener defined mankind’s purpose, and here that mankind blew it by believing the lie and disobeying Him. And it will be in just such a place, according to at least some Christians, that the Lord will restore His perfect kingdom once again, for all eternity – another excellent segue into the subject of heaven, and how to ensure yourself of a place there.

 
That’s just the start. For more examples, simply google a phrase like “gardening metaphors in the Bible.” 

Who knows? If you’ve never before experienced the scent of moist garden soil in spring, you may find yourself developing a wonderful new hobby – one that your new friend might feed by giving you divisions of some of her favorite old, and overgrown, perennials. 

But most important, you’ll either be expressing your love for a fellow believer, or living out the Great Commission -- planting, watering and feeding seeds of faith that the Lord will make grow. 

The snow may still be blanketing our lawns, but it won't be long before we see the buds swelling on our trees. And it's never too soon to begin planning new ways to plant the seeds of the gospel in a neighbor's heart.

Feeling weary? Discouraged? Hard pressed, perplexed, persecuted, and struck down, as the apostle Paul described in 2 Corinthians 4? 

Whatever your age, it's time to put things in perspective. For Christians, this beautiful rendition of a favorite hymn may be the perfect remedy! ​