Weeds.
Thorns.
Briars.
Cover the garden.
Hiding all that is under them.
I pull.
I tug.
I endure the noise of the machine.
To get rid of every single one.
I labour.
And then.
I uncover.
Green treasure.
Shiny leaves of green.
Soft leaves of juniper.
As two lovely bushes are exposed,
from under their long-endured
weedy cover.
Is this how it is with the trials of life?
The pain.
The rejection.
The anger and sorrow.
Like the weeds that try to cover.
The hope of tomorrow.
The weeds that try to hide.
The hidden treasure.
Of what God wants to teach me through this.

Hidden treasure.
Hidden treasure.
Of knowing He loves me all through the storm.
The hidden treasure of knowing I am His.
And because of this...
I shall see His goodness.
Because of this...
I shall behold...
Hidden Treasure.

(C) Elizabeth T., 2016