Welcome to His House,
A parable of spiritual intimacy,
Written by me,
Judy Boozer.
This story is a parable,
A spiritual journey told through metaphor,
Inviting you beyond information and into experience.
Before we begin,
I do want to share a brief note about language.
Throughout His House,
God is presented using masculine pronouns.
This isn't because I believe God is male,
But because as a woman,
I wanted to capture the experience of intimacy with a being whose thought process and essence felt entirely different from my own.
To do that,
I chose the other side of the human duality,
Masculinity,
To represent the divine within this story.
My hope is that regardless of gender,
You hear beyond the words,
Into the relationship,
The longing,
And the love that the story reveals.
Each chapter opens the window into the soul's walk toward the divine,
A walk that moves through symbols,
Emotions,
And revelation.
To fully enter this journey,
It helps to begin not with the mind,
But with the heart.
These moments aren't meant to be hurried or analyzed,
They're meant to be felt.
So before we begin Chapter 6,
The Garden,
Let's take a few quiet moments together to slow down,
Breathe,
And become present,
Body,
Mind,
And soul,
So that you can experience the story rather than simply hear it.
Okay,
Take a slow breath in through your nose,
And release it gently through your mouth.
Let your shoulders soften,
Let your jaw unclench,
Let the pace of your day begin to fall away.
Feel the support beneath you,
The ground,
The chair,
The earth.
You're safe here,
You are held.
Another slow,
Deep breath in.
With each breath,
Let your awareness move closer to this moment,
Closer to stillness.
Nothing to prove,
Nothing to produce,
Just this space to be.
Now imagine yourself standing on a quiet path.
The air around you is calm,
Almost expectant.
Somewhere ahead,
There's a soft light,
A glow you can't quite see clearly yet,
But it calls to something deep within you.
This light,
This call,
Is the beginning of your journey to his house.
Breathe deeply again,
And as you do,
Let go of whatever might distract you.
The noise,
The planning,
The worries,
The waiting.
Let those rest beside the path for now.
Whisper inwardly,
I am here.
I am listening.
Stay with that readiness for one more slow,
Deep breath.
Now gently,
Let's begin chapter 6,
The Garden.
For all of my time with him,
He still was such a mystery to me.
Have you,
Um,
Ever been in love?
I asked him one day as I folded laundry.
Why do you ask,
He responded,
Putting down his pencil and looking up from the letter he was writing.
I don't know,
I'm just curious.
I mean,
I like to think that I know what that's like,
But I wanted to know what you thought.
I tried to be casual,
But I felt like he could see through me.
I think I folded the same towel three times before finally putting it away.
He looked at me thoughtfully for a few minutes before picking his pencil back up.
I'm going to take you somewhere special tomorrow,
He announced,
As if that answered my question,
And then continued writing his letter.
The next morning,
He led me out of the house and down a path I had never seen before.
It wound around a small hill to a wooden gate,
Set crookedly in a wooden fence.
It creaked as he opened it for me.
I looked around in wonder.
In every direction,
I was surrounded by color.
It was his flower garden.
I had no idea it was even here.
Such brilliance wrapped around me.
I felt like I was in a rainbow cocoon,
Waking from a dream to discover I was a butterfly.
He moved to one of the rows,
And I followed him.
It was full of roses.
I could smell them before I even got a chance to see them.
The scent was intoxicating.
I felt like I'd died and gone to rose heaven.
Suddenly I understood why the dog would randomly roll around on the ground,
Rubbing himself with the scent of grass.
Admittedly,
I've never wanted to smell like grass,
But I would roll around in this rose bush's,
Minus the thorns,
Of course,
If I thought I could smell like this.
He stopped in front of a bush covered in scarlet roses.
The color was so saturated that they seemed almost otherworldly.
They looked like they were made out of velvet.
He bent down and pressed his nose into one of the blooms,
Inhaling deeply.
He stood and lifted the flower for me to see.
What do you think of this one?
He asked.
It's beautiful.
I mean,
It's gorgeous.
I was secretly wondering if I could take some of the flowers back to the house.
Maybe even that one.
How would you describe it to someone who had never encountered a rose before?
How would you describe the color to someone who'd been born blind?
How would you describe the smell to someone who had no sense of smell?
He asked.
I paused for a moment.
Every thought I had led me back to the same dead end.
Finally,
I admitted defeat.
I don't know.
How would you describe it to someone who couldn't see or smell?
You can't.
Anything that you used to describe it would be inadequate.
Your best efforts would be inaccurate and misleading.
This rose can't be described.
It must be experienced.
You can't tell someone how it smells.
They have to smell it.
You can't tell someone around the color.
They must see it.
You can't describe the softness of the petals.
They have to feel them.
I had to admit that he was right.
Even my best words wouldn't be good enough to describe the beauty of that one flower.
Love is like that,
He said.
It can't be described.
It must be experienced.
Those who are foolish enough to try to describe it have never experienced it fully and those who experience it know better than to try to describe it.
Once you've experienced it,
Your focus changes from explaining it so that others don't have to take that path to doing all that you can to help encourage people to take the path themselves.
All you can do is point the way to where it can be found.
Words aren't enough.
Pictures aren't enough.
You can only know how the rose smells by smelling it.
You can only know how deep the scarlet is by seeing it.
You can only know how soft the petals are by rubbing them between your fingers.
But how will I know if I've experienced love if I don't know what it's like?
You don't need to know that the name of this flower is rose to know that its scent is intoxicating.
You don't need to understand what type of flower it is to know that the color is rich and deep.
You don't need to know that love is called love to know that you were made for it and it was made for you.
When we leave this garden,
You'll carry with you the perfume placed in these flowers.
It will cling to you,
Not because you did anything,
But because you were here.
When someone has truly experienced love,
They carry it into their world,
Not because they tried to,
But because it's changed them.
They have become the love they experienced.
He took out a small set of clippers and clipped the bloom,
Handing it to me.
You asked if I had ever been in love.
It's the wrong question,
My dear.
Truthfully,
I am love,
So the better question is whether you have ever been in love,
Whether your time with me has changed you.
Those who have been in me and choose to continue to rest there are always in love.
He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder.
And that's a question only you can answer.
Before we close,
Let's pause for a moment to let the story settle.
Take a slow breath,
In through your nose and out through your mouth.
Let yourself return to the garden,
The scent of roses,
The glow of color,
The quiet presence beside you.
You've just stood in a place where love wasn't explained.
It was experienced.
Notice what lingers with you.
Is it the beauty of the rose,
The simplicity of his words,
Or the realization that love itself can't be captured in language?
Whatever it is,
Let it unfold gently.
You don't have to name it,
Just let it bloom within you.
Now let's take a few moments to reflect,
Either inwardly or in your journal.
The rose couldn't be described,
Only experienced.
What parts of your spiritual life have you been trying to explain or understand,
When perhaps they're meant to be felt?
He said,
Those who have been in me and choose to continue to rest there are always in love.
What does that mean to you,
To rest in love rather than working or striving for it?
When he said that the perfume of the flowers would cling to you simply because you were there,
What perfume of love might you already carry into your world without realizing it?
Finally,
Ask yourself,
Have I been in love truly,
Deeply,
Transformatively,
Or have I only spoken about it?
Take another slow breath.
Let the scent of the garden and the truth of his words fill you from within.
There's nothing to chase here.
Love has already found you.
Simply rest in it.
