Mystical Gardens Tale
The Empty Chair
Mary had friends, technically she wasn't alone. That was what she always told herself. She had people she could call. People who would answer a message. People she could talk to about the weather, the latest news, or something funny that had happened during the day. What she didn't have was someone to do things with.
She wasn't completely alone, but there was a difference between having people she could talk to and having a companion to spend time with. Mary knew there was a difference. She knew it every evening when she came home. She knew it when she made dinner and automatically put two plates on the counter before realizing there was only one person eating.
She knew it when something funny happened on television and she turned toward the other side of the couch to share the joke, only to find an empty cushion. She knew it when she poured herself a glass of tea and, without thinking, reached for another glass. Then stopped. There was no one to pour it for.
One evening, Mary sat on the couch with her dinner untouched beside her. The television was playing, but she wasn't watching it. Her eyes kept drifting toward the empty chair across the room. It wasn't anything special. Just an old chair with a cushion that had lost some of its shape, but tonight, it seemed to be extra empty.
Mary stared at it for a long time. Then she whispered, “I wish somebody was here.”
The words surprised her. She had spent years teaching herself not to say things like that. Whenever she admitted she was lonely, someone would remind her that she already had friends. Whenever she said she wanted companionship, someone would tell her she needed to learn to be happy alone. Whenever she complained about having no one to do things with, someone would say, “You just have to get out there.”
Mary knew they meant well, but sometimes she wanted more than advice. She wanted someone to sit beside her. Someone to go places with. Someone to call and say, “Want to grab a coffee?” Someone who would watch a terrible movie with her and laugh at how terrible it was. Someone who would notice when she was quiet. Someone who didn't have to be invited because they were already there.
Mary leaned back against the couch. “I don't want to be needy,” she whispered. The room offered no answer. The loneliness tightened around her heart. The loneliness engulfed her and tears formed in her eyes.
Mary closed her eyes, curled into a fetal ball, and allowed herself to cry. When she opened them again, she wasn't in her living room. She was sitting in a beautiful garden beneath a giant tree. The mystical garden stretched around her in the soft evening light. Flowers moved gently in a breeze she couldn't feel. Somewhere nearby, water trickled over smooth stones.
Mary didn't know how she had gotten there, but she wasn't frightened. She had been to this garden before. Some people claimed it was magical. She looked up at the giant tree. “You know why I'm here, don't you?”
The leaves rustled. Mary smiled sadly. “I'm so lonely.” The tree remained silent.
Mary pulled her knees toward herself. “I know what everyone says. I know I do have people in my life. I do have friends. I know I should be grateful. I really am grateful.” She swallowed. “But I want someone...” The words finally came out. “I want someone to share my life with.”
A breeze moved through the branches. Mary looked up. “Can you help me?” The tree did not answer.
Mary waited. “Can you find someone for me?” Still nothing. Her smile disappeared. “It's silly, but I thought that since I just appeared here, maybe you had some magic that could help me.”
The branches swayed gently. Mary looked away. “Apparently not.” She stood and began walking through the garden. At first, she noticed all the companionship around her.
She saw two birds that sat together on a branch. A pair of rabbits chased one another through the flowers. A butterfly rested on another butterfly's wings. Even the bees seemed to have somewhere to go and someone waiting for them.
Mary stopped beside the pond. “Even the animals have someone.” Her voice cracked. “And I don't.”
She sat beside the water. For a long time, she didn't notice anything different. Then something strange began. The garden seemed to change.
Mary watched as a bee landed on a flower. The flower gave it the nectar that it searched for. A bird flew down to the pond where it found a worm in the soft soil and water to quench is thirst. A fruit fell from one of the branches and disappeared into the soil where the seed would grow.
Mary watched quietly. She finally began to understand. The garden wasn't showing her perfect lives. This wasn't exactly the companionship she longed for. What it was showing her was a different kind of companionship. It showed her the connections that are made in all life. Little ones. Simple ones. Necessary ones.
Then its leaves shimmered and Mary heard a whisper in her heart. "You are not wrong for wanting companionship.'' Mary's eyes filled with tears. People had told her it was good to be independent. They had told her to enjoy her own company. They had told her she didn't need anyone, but nobody had told her that wanting someone beside her wasn't a weakness.
Mary rested her hand against the tree. “I don't want someone to rescue me.” The leaves rustled. “I just don't want to do everything alone. I just need a friend to do things with.”
The tree remained silent, but somehow Mary understood. There was a difference between being incomplete and being lonely. She could be whole and still want someone to share some of the things in her life with. She could be grateful and still wish for a little companionship. She could love herself and still want someone sitting in the empty chair.
Mary wiped her eyes. “Then why can't you find someone for me?” The tree's branches slowly moved toward the ground. One small branch pointed toward the garden gate. Mary frowned. “You want me to leave?” At first she was hurt, but then she understood.
The garden couldn't choose another person's heart. It couldn't manufacture friendship. It couldn't make someone walk into her life. It couldn't promise that tomorrow she would meet the person she'd been waiting for. But it could give her somewhere to come back to when the loneliness became too heavy.
It could remind her that loneliness wasn't proof that she was forgotten. Companionship had many different forms. Perhaps most importantly, it reminded her not to close her heart simply because she had been disappointed before.
Mary stood. The tree's leaves shimmered.
“I guess I just stopped trying.” She looked toward the garden gate. “Because every time I tried, I got hurt.”
The garden grew very still. Mary took a deep breath. “Maybe I decided it was easier to do things alone, preferring to be lonely than to be hurt. That's not the same thing as being okay, is it?”
The tree answered with a gentle shower of golden leaves. Mary laughed through her tears. “No,” she whispered. “It isn't.”
When Mary returned home, the television was still playing. The empty chair was still there. Nothing about her house had changed. But Mary had.
She looked at the chair. For years, she had thought the empty chair was proof that nobody was coming, no one wanted to be with her. Tonight, she saw it differently. It was simply an empty chair waiting to be filled.
The next morning, Mary picked up her phone. She stared at the screen for several minutes. If she wanted a friend, she should make an effort. There was a woman she occasionally talked to. They had always talked easily, but Mary had never asked her to do anything outside their usual conversations.
Her finger hovered over the call button.
Then she pressed it. “Hi,” Mary said when the woman answered. “I was wondering…”
She almost stopped. She fears that the woman would be too busy. That she would think Mary was being strange. But Mary continued. “Would you like to have coffee with me sometime?”
There was a pause. Then came the answer. “I'd love to.”
Mary smiled. It wasn't a miracle. It wasn't the end of her loneliness. It wasn't the person she had dreamed about finding for a relationship. It was simply coffee and the beginning of a new friendship.
Sometimes the beginnings of any kind of relationship are very small. Sometimes they sound like: Would you like to come with me? Would you want to watch a movie? Do you want to get coffee?
Would you like to sit here?
Mary still visited the garden. She still had lonely evenings. There were still nights when she looked at the empty chair and wished someone were sitting in it, but now she wouldn't allow the loneliness to tightened around her heart. She knew she could ask for simple companionship when she felt lonely and she could always come here for comfort and peace.
Wanting someone beside you does not make you weak. Being lonely does not mean you are forgotten. An empty chair is not a threat that no one will ever come. Sometimes… It is simply a chair waiting for a story that hasn't been written yet.
Seed from the Garden
“God setteth the solitary in families.” — Psalm 68:6
Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 Two people are better than one because they can help each other up.
God sees the lonely places we don't always know how to explain. He doesn't shame us for wanting companionship. While He may not answer that longing in the way or timing we expect, we can trust that our loneliness does not mean we have been forgotten. Sometimes the first step isn't finding the person we've been waiting for. Sometimes it's simply finding the courage to open the door to allow people in.
#christianwriter #christianfiction #christianfantasy #stacyfrantz #MysticalGardens
The Empty Chair
Mary had friends, technically she wasn't alone. That was what she always told herself. She had people she could call. People who would answer a message. People she could talk to about the weather, the latest news, or something funny that had happened during the day. What she didn't have was someone to do things with.
She wasn't completely alone, but there was a difference between having people she could talk to and having a companion to spend time with. Mary knew there was a difference. She knew it every evening when she came home. She knew it when she made dinner and automatically put two plates on the counter before realizing there was only one person eating.
She knew it when something funny happened on television and she turned toward the other side of the couch to share the joke, only to find an empty cushion. She knew it when she poured herself a glass of tea and, without thinking, reached for another glass. Then stopped. There was no one to pour it for.
One evening, Mary sat on the couch with her dinner untouched beside her. The television was playing, but she wasn't watching it. Her eyes kept drifting toward the empty chair across the room. It wasn't anything special. Just an old chair with a cushion that had lost some of its shape, but tonight, it seemed to be extra empty.
Mary stared at it for a long time. Then she whispered, “I wish somebody was here.”
The words surprised her. She had spent years teaching herself not to say things like that. Whenever she admitted she was lonely, someone would remind her that she already had friends. Whenever she said she wanted companionship, someone would tell her she needed to learn to be happy alone. Whenever she complained about having no one to do things with, someone would say, “You just have to get out there.”
Mary knew they meant well, but sometimes she wanted more than advice. She wanted someone to sit beside her. Someone to go places with. Someone to call and say, “Want to grab a coffee?” Someone who would watch a terrible movie with her and laugh at how terrible it was. Someone who would notice when she was quiet. Someone who didn't have to be invited because they were already there.
Mary leaned back against the couch. “I don't want to be needy,” she whispered. The room offered no answer. The loneliness tightened around her heart. The loneliness engulfed her and tears formed in her eyes.
Mary closed her eyes, curled into a fetal ball, and allowed herself to cry. When she opened them again, she wasn't in her living room. She was sitting in a beautiful garden beneath a giant tree. The mystical garden stretched around her in the soft evening light. Flowers moved gently in a breeze she couldn't feel. Somewhere nearby, water trickled over smooth stones.
Mary didn't know how she had gotten there, but she wasn't frightened. She had been to this garden before. Some people claimed it was magical. She looked up at the giant tree. “You know why I'm here, don't you?”
The leaves rustled. Mary smiled sadly. “I'm so lonely.” The tree remained silent.
Mary pulled her knees toward herself. “I know what everyone says. I know I do have people in my life. I do have friends. I know I should be grateful. I really am grateful.” She swallowed. “But I want someone...” The words finally came out. “I want someone to share my life with.”
A breeze moved through the branches. Mary looked up. “Can you help me?” The tree did not answer.
Mary waited. “Can you find someone for me?” Still nothing. Her smile disappeared. “It's silly, but I thought that since I just appeared here, maybe you had some magic that could help me.”
The branches swayed gently. Mary looked away. “Apparently not.” She stood and began walking through the garden. At first, she noticed all the companionship around her.
She saw two birds that sat together on a branch. A pair of rabbits chased one another through the flowers. A butterfly rested on another butterfly's wings. Even the bees seemed to have somewhere to go and someone waiting for them.
Mary stopped beside the pond. “Even the animals have someone.” Her voice cracked. “And I don't.”
She sat beside the water. For a long time, she didn't notice anything different. Then something strange began. The garden seemed to change.
Mary watched as a bee landed on a flower. The flower gave it the nectar that it searched for. A bird flew down to the pond where it found a worm in the soft soil and water to quench is thirst. A fruit fell from one of the branches and disappeared into the soil where the seed would grow.
Mary watched quietly. She finally began to understand. The garden wasn't showing her perfect lives. This wasn't exactly the companionship she longed for. What it was showing her was a different kind of companionship. It showed her the connections that are made in all life. Little ones. Simple ones. Necessary ones.
Then its leaves shimmered and Mary heard a whisper in her heart. "You are not wrong for wanting companionship.'' Mary's eyes filled with tears. People had told her it was good to be independent. They had told her to enjoy her own company. They had told her she didn't need anyone, but nobody had told her that wanting someone beside her wasn't a weakness.
Mary rested her hand against the tree. “I don't want someone to rescue me.” The leaves rustled. “I just don't want to do everything alone. I just need a friend to do things with.”
The tree remained silent, but somehow Mary understood. There was a difference between being incomplete and being lonely. She could be whole and still want someone to share some of the things in her life with. She could be grateful and still wish for a little companionship. She could love herself and still want someone sitting in the empty chair.
Mary wiped her eyes. “Then why can't you find someone for me?” The tree's branches slowly moved toward the ground. One small branch pointed toward the garden gate. Mary frowned. “You want me to leave?” At first she was hurt, but then she understood.
The garden couldn't choose another person's heart. It couldn't manufacture friendship. It couldn't make someone walk into her life. It couldn't promise that tomorrow she would meet the person she'd been waiting for. But it could give her somewhere to come back to when the loneliness became too heavy.
It could remind her that loneliness wasn't proof that she was forgotten. Companionship had many different forms. Perhaps most importantly, it reminded her not to close her heart simply because she had been disappointed before.
Mary stood. The tree's leaves shimmered.
“I guess I just stopped trying.” She looked toward the garden gate. “Because every time I tried, I got hurt.”
The garden grew very still. Mary took a deep breath. “Maybe I decided it was easier to do things alone, preferring to be lonely than to be hurt. That's not the same thing as being okay, is it?”
The tree answered with a gentle shower of golden leaves. Mary laughed through her tears. “No,” she whispered. “It isn't.”
When Mary returned home, the television was still playing. The empty chair was still there. Nothing about her house had changed. But Mary had.
She looked at the chair. For years, she had thought the empty chair was proof that nobody was coming, no one wanted to be with her. Tonight, she saw it differently. It was simply an empty chair waiting to be filled.
The next morning, Mary picked up her phone. She stared at the screen for several minutes. If she wanted a friend, she should make an effort. There was a woman she occasionally talked to. They had always talked easily, but Mary had never asked her to do anything outside their usual conversations.
Her finger hovered over the call button.
Then she pressed it. “Hi,” Mary said when the woman answered. “I was wondering…”
She almost stopped. She fears that the woman would be too busy. That she would think Mary was being strange. But Mary continued. “Would you like to have coffee with me sometime?”
There was a pause. Then came the answer. “I'd love to.”
Mary smiled. It wasn't a miracle. It wasn't the end of her loneliness. It wasn't the person she had dreamed about finding for a relationship. It was simply coffee and the beginning of a new friendship.
Sometimes the beginnings of any kind of relationship are very small. Sometimes they sound like: Would you like to come with me? Would you want to watch a movie? Do you want to get coffee?
Would you like to sit here?
Mary still visited the garden. She still had lonely evenings. There were still nights when she looked at the empty chair and wished someone were sitting in it, but now she wouldn't allow the loneliness to tightened around her heart. She knew she could ask for simple companionship when she felt lonely and she could always come here for comfort and peace.
Wanting someone beside you does not make you weak. Being lonely does not mean you are forgotten. An empty chair is not a threat that no one will ever come. Sometimes… It is simply a chair waiting for a story that hasn't been written yet.
Seed from the Garden
“God setteth the solitary in families.” — Psalm 68:6
Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 Two people are better than one because they can help each other up.
God sees the lonely places we don't always know how to explain. He doesn't shame us for wanting companionship. While He may not answer that longing in the way or timing we expect, we can trust that our loneliness does not mean we have been forgotten. Sometimes the first step isn't finding the person we've been waiting for. Sometimes it's simply finding the courage to open the door to allow people in.
#christianwriter #christianfiction #christianfantasy #stacyfrantz #MysticalGardens
🌿 Mystical Gardens Tale 🌿
🪑 The Empty Chair
Mary had friends, technically she wasn't alone. That was what she always told herself. She had people she could call. People who would answer a message. People she could talk to about the weather, the latest news, or something funny that had happened during the day. What she didn't have was someone to do things with.
She wasn't completely alone, but there was a difference between having people she could talk to and having a companion to spend time with. Mary knew there was a difference. She knew it every evening when she came home. She knew it when she made dinner and automatically put two plates on the counter before realizing there was only one person eating.
She knew it when something funny happened on television and she turned toward the other side of the couch to share the joke, only to find an empty cushion. She knew it when she poured herself a glass of tea and, without thinking, reached for another glass. Then stopped. There was no one to pour it for.
One evening, Mary sat on the couch with her dinner untouched beside her. The television was playing, but she wasn't watching it. Her eyes kept drifting toward the empty chair across the room. It wasn't anything special. Just an old chair with a cushion that had lost some of its shape, but tonight, it seemed to be extra empty.
Mary stared at it for a long time. Then she whispered, “I wish somebody was here.”
The words surprised her. She had spent years teaching herself not to say things like that. Whenever she admitted she was lonely, someone would remind her that she already had friends. Whenever she said she wanted companionship, someone would tell her she needed to learn to be happy alone. Whenever she complained about having no one to do things with, someone would say, “You just have to get out there.”
Mary knew they meant well, but sometimes she wanted more than advice. She wanted someone to sit beside her. Someone to go places with. Someone to call and say, “Want to grab a coffee?” Someone who would watch a terrible movie with her and laugh at how terrible it was. Someone who would notice when she was quiet. Someone who didn't have to be invited because they were already there.
Mary leaned back against the couch. “I don't want to be needy,” she whispered. The room offered no answer. The loneliness tightened around her heart. The loneliness engulfed her and tears formed in her eyes.
Mary closed her eyes, curled into a fetal ball, and allowed herself to cry. When she opened them again, she wasn't in her living room. She was sitting in a beautiful garden beneath a giant tree. The mystical garden stretched around her in the soft evening light. Flowers moved gently in a breeze she couldn't feel. Somewhere nearby, water trickled over smooth stones.
Mary didn't know how she had gotten there, but she wasn't frightened. She had been to this garden before. Some people claimed it was magical. She looked up at the giant tree. “You know why I'm here, don't you?”
The leaves rustled. Mary smiled sadly. “I'm so lonely.” The tree remained silent.
Mary pulled her knees toward herself. “I know what everyone says. I know I do have people in my life. I do have friends. I know I should be grateful. I really am grateful.” She swallowed. “But I want someone...” The words finally came out. “I want someone to share my life with.”
A breeze moved through the branches. Mary looked up. “Can you help me?” The tree did not answer.
Mary waited. “Can you find someone for me?” Still nothing. Her smile disappeared. “It's silly, but I thought that since I just appeared here, maybe you had some magic that could help me.”
The branches swayed gently. Mary looked away. “Apparently not.” She stood and began walking through the garden. At first, she noticed all the companionship around her.
She saw two birds that sat together on a branch. A pair of rabbits chased one another through the flowers. A butterfly rested on another butterfly's wings. Even the bees seemed to have somewhere to go and someone waiting for them.
Mary stopped beside the pond. “Even the animals have someone.” Her voice cracked. “And I don't.”
She sat beside the water. For a long time, she didn't notice anything different. Then something strange began. The garden seemed to change.
Mary watched as a bee landed on a flower. The flower gave it the nectar that it searched for. A bird flew down to the pond where it found a worm in the soft soil and water to quench is thirst. A fruit fell from one of the branches and disappeared into the soil where the seed would grow.
Mary watched quietly. She finally began to understand. The garden wasn't showing her perfect lives. This wasn't exactly the companionship she longed for. What it was showing her was a different kind of companionship. It showed her the connections that are made in all life. Little ones. Simple ones. Necessary ones.
Then its leaves shimmered and Mary heard a whisper in her heart. "You are not wrong for wanting companionship.'' Mary's eyes filled with tears. People had told her it was good to be independent. They had told her to enjoy her own company. They had told her she didn't need anyone, but nobody had told her that wanting someone beside her wasn't a weakness.
Mary rested her hand against the tree. “I don't want someone to rescue me.” The leaves rustled. “I just don't want to do everything alone. I just need a friend to do things with.”
The tree remained silent, but somehow Mary understood. There was a difference between being incomplete and being lonely. She could be whole and still want someone to share some of the things in her life with. She could be grateful and still wish for a little companionship. She could love herself and still want someone sitting in the empty chair.
Mary wiped her eyes. “Then why can't you find someone for me?” The tree's branches slowly moved toward the ground. One small branch pointed toward the garden gate. Mary frowned. “You want me to leave?” At first she was hurt, but then she understood.
The garden couldn't choose another person's heart. It couldn't manufacture friendship. It couldn't make someone walk into her life. It couldn't promise that tomorrow she would meet the person she'd been waiting for. But it could give her somewhere to come back to when the loneliness became too heavy.
It could remind her that loneliness wasn't proof that she was forgotten. Companionship had many different forms. Perhaps most importantly, it reminded her not to close her heart simply because she had been disappointed before.
Mary stood. The tree's leaves shimmered.
“I guess I just stopped trying.” She looked toward the garden gate. “Because every time I tried, I got hurt.”
The garden grew very still. Mary took a deep breath. “Maybe I decided it was easier to do things alone, preferring to be lonely than to be hurt. That's not the same thing as being okay, is it?”
The tree answered with a gentle shower of golden leaves. Mary laughed through her tears. “No,” she whispered. “It isn't.”
When Mary returned home, the television was still playing. The empty chair was still there. Nothing about her house had changed. But Mary had.
She looked at the chair. For years, she had thought the empty chair was proof that nobody was coming, no one wanted to be with her. Tonight, she saw it differently. It was simply an empty chair waiting to be filled.
The next morning, Mary picked up her phone. She stared at the screen for several minutes. If she wanted a friend, she should make an effort. There was a woman she occasionally talked to. They had always talked easily, but Mary had never asked her to do anything outside their usual conversations.
Her finger hovered over the call button.
Then she pressed it. “Hi,” Mary said when the woman answered. “I was wondering…”
She almost stopped. She fears that the woman would be too busy. That she would think Mary was being strange. But Mary continued. “Would you like to have coffee with me sometime?”
There was a pause. Then came the answer. “I'd love to.”
Mary smiled. It wasn't a miracle. It wasn't the end of her loneliness. It wasn't the person she had dreamed about finding for a relationship. It was simply coffee and the beginning of a new friendship.
Sometimes the beginnings of any kind of relationship are very small. Sometimes they sound like: Would you like to come with me? Would you want to watch a movie? Do you want to get coffee?
Would you like to sit here?
Mary still visited the garden. She still had lonely evenings. There were still nights when she looked at the empty chair and wished someone were sitting in it, but now she wouldn't allow the loneliness to tightened around her heart. She knew she could ask for simple companionship when she felt lonely and she could always come here for comfort and peace.
Wanting someone beside you does not make you weak. Being lonely does not mean you are forgotten. An empty chair is not a threat that no one will ever come. Sometimes… It is simply a chair waiting for a story that hasn't been written yet.
Seed from the Garden
“God setteth the solitary in families.” — Psalm 68:6
Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 Two people are better than one because they can help each other up.
God sees the lonely places we don't always know how to explain. He doesn't shame us for wanting companionship. While He may not answer that longing in the way or timing we expect, we can trust that our loneliness does not mean we have been forgotten. Sometimes the first step isn't finding the person we've been waiting for. Sometimes it's simply finding the courage to open the door to allow people in.
#christianwriter #christianfiction #christianfantasy #stacyfrantz #MysticalGardens
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