Welcome
Hi, I’m Karen Evans. I’m so glad you’re here. My heart is to create spaces where honest faith and deep healing meet.
I long to offer places—real, honest, sacred places—where people can come with their hurts, their hopes, their doubts, and find rest. Not to stay stuck, but to be stirred—to grow, to heal, to rise.
I believe deeply in the kind of faith that reaches beyond the walls of the church and stretches out its hands across the table. Not my table—His. The one He prepares, where there’s always room for one more.
Whether it’s through a quiet blog post, a conversation over coffee, or a gathering under the trees, I want everything I do to say: Come. You are welcome. There’s healing here.
The Importance of Practicing His Presence
Hello, friends,I want to offer you a challenge. As I’ve shared before, this table isn’t just a place of safety and acceptance—it’s a place of exchange. A space where we grow, stretch, and take a step toward a place of deeper healing.To do that, we must learn to practice the presence of the Lord—our Master Gardener. Scripture tells us that if we seek Him with all our hearts, He will be found. He’s not hiding from you.... He desires for you to actively pursue Him. Not just when you have a "known" need, Just like you long for the people closest to you to be intentional with their presence—how much more does the Lord desire that from us? So here’s the challenge: set aside just 15 minutes a day. Wake up a little earlier, and I’ll be there with you. Let’s begin each morning with a simple greeting to the Lord. Let Him speak. Let Him draw near. As we draw near to Him, you can be sure—He is drawing near to you.
“Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” — James 4:8a
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About
Hi, I’m Karen Evans. I’m so glad you’re here.
My heart is to create spaces where honest faith
and deep healing meet —
I long to offer places—real, honest, sacred places
—where people can come with their hurts, their hopes, their doubts, and find rest. Not to stay stuck, but to be stirred—to grow, to heal, to rise. I believe deeply in the kind of faith that reaches beyond the walls of the church and stretches out its hands at the table. Not my table—His. The one He prepares, where there’s always room for one more.
Whether it’s through a quiet blog post, a conversation over coffee, or a gathering under the trees, I want everything I do to say: Come. You are welcome. There’s healing here.
Life hasn’t always been gentle. I’ve known loss. I’ve walked through divorce. I’ve watched dreams crumble like sandcastles and fortunes turn to loss. But I’ve also learned what it means to gather up the broken pieces, lay them at the foot of the cross, and find beauty again. It was at the table—in the presence of the Master Gardener, Jesus—that hope began to grow in the soil of surrender. That quiet place with Him became my restoration, and now, it’s my joy to invite you to pull up a chair. There’s always room here for healing, reflection, and the gentle work of grace.
Welcome to The Garden Table.
A Mother's Day Reflection On Remembrance, Roots, And The Quiet Strength That Holds Us
The Garden Table Blog
Entry 1: A Mother’s Day Reflection
A reflection on remembrance, roots, and the quiet strength that holds us.
By: Karen Evans
Hey friend,
I’m especially glad you’re here today.
It’s Mother’s Day.
For some, today blooms with joy and laughter—meals around crowded tables, hugs that linger, and stories that get retold one more time.
But for others… today holds something quieter. A weight. A gap. A grief that comes in waves.
I feel that, too.
My mom passed a couple of years ago, and I miss her still—especially on days like this.
Maybe you’re missing yours today.
Maybe you never really had one.
Maybe you’re the mom holding it all together… or the one who feels like you’re not enough.
Whoever you are—whatever this day holds—I want you to know you’re welcome at this table.
Walk with me for a moment.
There’s something I want to show you.
Look—do you see these trees?
They’re huge. Weathered. Strong.
But they’ve fallen.
It doesn’t make sense, does it?
They looked like they should still be standing.
But it reminds me of something I once heard…
There was a storm in Europe—October 16, 1987.
Over 15 million trees fell in one night.
Not because they were sick.
Not because they were weak.
But because they had been planted too far apart.
Their roots never grew deep.
They never touched.
When the storm came, they had nothing to hold them up.
15 million trees gone... because of being disconnected...
Do you feel disconnected? Take my hand.
Today, a friend of mine is planting a red dogwood tree.
It’s a memorial—for his late wife.
They were married 30 years.
This is his first Mother’s Day without her.
His children’s first without their mom.
The tree?
It’s more than a tree.
It’s remembrance.
It’s love.
It’s a living symbol of what was and still is.
It made me pause and ask:
Where am I planted?
And who am I planted near?
We weren’t made to be scattered.
We were made for closeness.
To be rooted side by side.
To grow deep, together.
To hold each other steady when the winds come.
Maybe you’ve felt the shaking.
Maybe you’ve already fallen once or twice.
Maybe you’re just hoping to stand.
So let me whisper this gently:
Get close.
Let your roots stretch out.
Don’t grow alone.
At the Garden Table: A Time to Reflect
Rooted in the Word
Take a breath.
Get still.
Let the noise fall away for a moment.
Picture yourself there—beneath the branches, beside the red dogwood,
knees in the dirt, heart open.
This is your space.
Your seat at the table.
Scripture Reflection
“They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”
—Jeremiah 17:8
Prayer of Remembrance and Rootedness
Lord, today I remember.
I remember those I’ve loved and lost,
and I remember that You never left me.
Help me plant my roots deep—not just in routine,
but in community, in faith, and in Your promises.
Show me who I’m planted near,
and teach me how to hold others steady when storms come.
Let my life become a place of quiet strength.
In Jesus’ name, amen.
Commit To The Process
There will be mornings when it’s hard—when your body craves more sleep and the comfort of your covers feels irresistible.
But I want to encourage you to commit to the process.
Even when it’s uncomfortable, even when you feel nothing, and the sky is still dark, let’s press in together!
Dedicate just 15 minutes each morning to sit with the Lord, listen for His voice, and show up with an open heart.
I invite to share what He reveals to you during these moments.
share at
thegardentableblog@gmail.com
Let’s grow as a community, seeking His presence daily, faithfully, and wholeheartedly.
This isn’t just a challenge; it’s an invitation to encounter Him.
A Garden Table Coming To A Community Near You
The heart behind this space comes from a passion to nurture communities of faith beyond the church walls—meeting people right where they are, in their everyday lives. It’s not about an organization or a title. It’s about a movement—one that creates spaces for healing, hope, and the presence of God in the most unexpected places
Garden Moments
Here I will archive your testimony of How The Garden Table has been a blessing to you. Its a place where testimonies are birthed!
Revelation 12:11
****. May 12th 2025 This blog is where spiritual lessons bloom through stories, metaphors, and reflections inspired by Scripture and life itself. It's a place of restoration—a safe, rare kind of place where the Holy Spirit is welcome to do the deep work.
K.E -North Carolina
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