Grandpa’s Garden
Grandpa Smith lived out from Harrisburg, Arkansas on Possum Hollow Road. He was born in 1888 and like many, many men of that era, did not have much formal education. However, there was no doubting his intelligence as his wit was very quick and sharp as a razor. He, like my other grandfather, could play the fiddle.
Where he and my grandmother lived was a wonderful place for a little boy to play sitting as it did on top of Crowley’s Ridge. The back of their yard sloped sharply down to some woods in a hollow. The hillside was extremely rocky. Right at the edge of the woods sat a toolshed to the left and a hen house over further to the right. Between these two buildings lay the path.
The path led to Grandpa’s garden in a cleared-out area of the woods. As a little boy, it seemed as though that garden lay deep in a forest. I can remember Grandpa taking me by the hand and going out to see how his plants were getting along. The entrance to the garden was guarded by an old gate and very large corner posts which anchored the wire fence that encircled the garden.
That old garden spot made a very significant impression on me. When I used to hear the story about the Garden of Eden as a child, as read by my mother, I always pictured Grandpa’s garden in my mind as I thought about the story. It has been over fifty years since I walked with Grandpa to that garden. However, to this day, when reading those early chapters in Genesis my mind always goes back to Grandpa’s garden. People have wondered for centuries about the actual location of the Garden of Eden. In my mind, Eden has always been in a secluded place in Poinsett County, Arkansas.
In 1995, I made a return trip to Harrisburg and my Grandpa’s old home place. I don’t know the name of the people who owned the place then – only that they were nice enough to let me roam around with my camcorder. The old wood frame house now has a brick exterior. The hen house, tool shed, and outdoor privy are no longer there. The white post fence in the front yard is no more and neither are the mimosa trees under which my dad and I used to play pitch while Grandpa watched from the front porch.
However, the woods were still back behind the house at the foot of the hill just as I remembered them. I headed for what I thought would be just to the left of where the old hen house once stood which was where the path started. I didn’t know if I could find the old garden spot or not, but as I started into the woods I was amazed. Although it wasn’t visible by looking on the ground, I could still make out what I thought had to be the old path by looking forward at the trees. At first I thought it must be my imagination, but I kept following what I thought was that old path. After a couple of twists and turns my goal was in sight.
The old gate was still there. Beside the gate was one of those large corner posts that I remembered. I noticed that sticking about halfway out of the post was a large, rusty old nail, most certainly hammered there by my Grandpa many years ago for some purpose. I pulled it out and took it home as a memento. I stepped through the old gate and into the garden. It was surprising that it wasn’t grown up any more than it was. As a matter of fact, the old garden spot was amazingly clear. It almost looked as if it were waiting for Grandpa to work it with his hand plow and get it ready for another season. Even the old rows, which had not completely eroded away, were still visible!
Being back in that place after so many years was emotional for me. Seeing the weathered remains of Grandpa’s labors in the very place where we had so often walked hand in hand caused a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye. After a few minutes I reluctantly made my way back up to the house and grateful to the old path that had so accurately guided by way.
Reflecting on that visit to the old garden that I so naturally associate with the Garden of Eden caused me to wonder about the sadness Adam must have felt when he thought about his old garden. Did he have memories of walking hand in hand with God? Before the fall, the Garden was Adam’s home. The book of Genesis tells us that God carefully provided for Adam and Eve. He provided trees that produced food, gave Adam dominion over the animals, and lovingly made him complete by providing Eve. Everything was literally paradise until that day when they both disobeyed.
Did Adam ever get a lump in his throat as he recalled those joyful and peaceful times in the garden with his Father? Was he able to stand on the outside and look in as time, weather, and the elements changed the perfect place into a wistful memory made more bitter than sweet because of Adam’s own failings? If one goes no further in Scripture, Adam’s story is simply one of paradise lost.
However, that is not the end of the story. As the Biblical narrative unfolds, one can see the amazing redemptive work of God. Even as Adam and Eve are cast out of the Garden, there is a hint of what God has in mind. Satan is told that he will be crushed. The remainder of the Old Testament looks forward to the coming of the Messiah. That hope is realized in the New Testament through Jesus. Because of Jesus, we can find our way again.
Jesus tells us that He is the way, the truth, and the life. To return to God, we must go through Jesus. For you see, that old path to the Garden is still there and it is provided by the Ancient of Days. Sometimes because of the distractions and hardships of life, the path may be hard for us to see, but it is there. As we wind our way through the dark woods of disappointment, temptation, sickness, and all the other things life throws at us, we must stay on the path. Staying on the path will eventually return us to the old garden.
In his Revelation, John speaks of this very thing. This time, instead of the old rotting gate, we find a city with twelve gates. We find a river as clear as crystal flowing outward from the throne of God. On either side of the river, we find our way back to the tree of life. Once again, God shall dwell among His people and shall wipe away every tear. There shall be no more death, mourning, or crying. The curse is gone. That old path has brought us home.
Jim Shelton