Not her hair or style. Not her position or status. Not her looks, her accomplishments, her reputation. Her popularity or lack thereof. None comprises a woman like her heart. The thoughts that fester there. The quiet revelations that are sown there. The journeys of struggles and joy that are remembered there. The moments sought after, then experienced there. The jumps and skips that recognizes Him there. It is there, that the seeds of joy, pain, laughter, fear, and wonderment are housed. And yet, she's the one with the watering can. She can choose to water the good, and starve the bad. Sure, her green thumb can be off at times. But, she has The Master Gardner bending near her. "Water this, child, not that. Now watch Me make it grow."The heart. There is nothing more complex than a woman's heart. I invite you to tarry in my heart's garden. Smell the freshest of basil here, passing quickly by the weeds uninvited there. And, through it, may you find The Father, watering can in hand, eager to tend to your own precious, and utterly unique heart.