rows of love, seeds of faith

my grandmother always kept a garden. the garden fed her family from the time she got married until the last year of her life. now the garden is an empty plot of grass in my grandfather's backyard. kind of fitting that the garden died with her. tending the garden is the way I prefer to remember her. planting, digging, picking, canning, cooking and sharing the fruits of her labor. it's also the way she approached her life's calling as the wife of a pastor in applachain mountains. although my grandfather was the pastor, she was the catalyst for the congregation. planting and tending to the seeds in her community. she was a woman of great love, compassion, humility, wisdom, and most of all faith. some people would also add stubborn, cantankerous, long winded, and feisty to the list, but that’s for another time.

it’s been almost two years since she passed and i finally got around to writing a song about her. i’m not sure if it’s finished, but its what i’ve got for now and i thought i'd share it.


spring time in the garden,
she's praying for the heavens to open up.
a little rain falling down.
her hands slipping through the mud.
pitter pat, this and that.
there's no better way to spend another day.
she's planting seeds in the garden,
rows of love, seeds of faith.

summer sun in the mountains,
the heat beating down on her back.
hasn't rained in quite a few days.
she knows this year will be her last.
a loving stare, distant glare,
there's nothing left for her to say.
she's tending seeds in the garden,
rows of love, seeds of faith.

(bridge)
the harvest moon brings a chilling wind.
shorter days are closing in.
the hole she left we could never mend.
the seeds she sowed brought new love to life again.


with a look, that's all it took.
she knew the end was on the way.
she's found new life in the garden,
rows of love, seeds of faith.