June 20, 1999: The peace garden is born
A simple hill becomes a new walking place—lined with stones that make a wall. Its strength reaches within my racing mind and says, “This is where the path begins…” “A path?” I question, “It was all but a vision six years ago, only to see that it’s taking place without me knowing it.”
I would like to create a path to follow each morning I pray—the path will tell the story within the circle I call my life. My world is becoming more spiritual than ever thought—an incredible sense of peace, which in return allows the soul to finally breathe. What I see outward is the vision to be slowly digested inwardly—an ability to answer, strength to suggest and a confidence to help mend. The sacred ground I call my earth mother allows it to be—what I taste savors truth, what I hear is the wind from souls passing through. A path of peace for Gods children to walk upon before leaping into a heaven we only assume exists. But why question it? Look at all those trees! I didn’t plant them nor did I take from them the children that once sat where I now sit—a spiritual warmth blankets the trail my imagination follows. To take from my spirit keeper the tears he cried when told to leave this land makes me scream out… Not in anger but in color, “Welcome home! It’s yours to roam and play, dance and sing—it’s small but in time I believe it will grow! While the eagle scrapes the sun, dropping blessing for us to accept—this is one I give to you…my spirit guide and keeper…welcome home.”

There is a spirit within the forest, a growing love toward an impressive desire to hear it speak—not words but unexplained written chapters as told by the wind. I stand on the creeks edge each new sun in hopes of learning new songs to sing, new ways to help heal and to accept a better way to live. From my place of prayer, I hear the wind—a breeze that touches the essence of faith. Waving my arms first to the north, then south, east then west…I begin to pray. I hold open my soul, my knees bent I touch my mother earth, respect the water flowing through and look at each tree—it’s my vow to learn from their knowledge. The feather placed over my face, a chant enters the emptiness soothing the keeper of sadness…the feather resting on my forehead, I learn without words shared, learn to heal thy soul first—only to touch the hand of those willing to learn tomorrow. My prayer path—it leading me closer to Gods purpose…never question, only listen.