The Masterpiece of Motherhoodنموونە

I love springtime in the garden. This dirt—the same soil that God used to form the first human being—nestles seeds in its warm depths. A miracle happens, and life seems to spring from nothing, as if God speaks these fresh sprouts into existence, just as He did at the beginning of time. Leaves push up to the sun and exhale. This is where I can meet with God. And why not? It all began in a garden, it all fell apart in a garden, and it was all set right in a garden once again.

The first woman walked in the garden with God, and everything was perfect. She basked in His glory, laughed in His presence, and allowed the lift and fall of His voice to wash over her. She was fully seen, known, and loved. She shared an intimate relationship with the Creator of the universe and of her very soul.

And yet, she wanted more. There was only one rule in the Garden: do not eat the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. That is all. She looked at the forbidden fruit. She longed to taste it. When the serpent told her that it would make her as wise as God, she yearned to know what He knew, to have the authority that He held. She took a bite, and the world shattered.