Your Secret Garden: Circles of Trust and the Power of Boundaries

Recently I saw a Facebook post asking, "How do you deal with the people who pretend to like you, but talk about your behind your back?" There were, as I'm sure you can guess, loads of people in the comments with various creative ways to reject, repay, or discard people who prove themselves untrustworthy - and the more I thought about it, the more I noticed the contrast between those tones.

It's all about REactivity vs PROactivity. Most of the answers I saw flooding the comments of that post were colored by hurt, anger, defensiveness. There were stories of regret and revenge being shared. But the thing is, the way we respond to these situations says more about our own sense of worth than it does about the people who hurt us. It’s easy to react from a place of pain or anger but...what if we approached it differently?

What if, instead of focusing on them, what they did, how they failed or they were wrong or they should/shouldn't do this/that...what if we focused on ourselves—our values, our boundaries, and the safe spaces we build for our lives? What if, instead of targeting our efforts on defending and avenging, we instead learned better methods for protecting and empowering?

Picture this:

You're walking along a pathway filled with sunshine, and there before you is what appears to be a rounded stone wall, low enough to peer over but broken only by a simple wooden gate, standing invitingly open. You step through and find yourself looking around a circular garden. Here too, the sun streams freely over a pebbled trail lined with flowerbeds. Cheerful blooms perfume the air, and you know all the flowers here; daisies, marigolds, sprigs of blooming lavender. You walk the pathway around, admiring the blooms, perhaps inspired but probably not too impressed. The garden, after all is lovely, but you've seen these plants before.

Having lingered a while on the blooms, you begin to get a little curious about the second stone wall lining the inner circle of this garden. What might be further inside? Eventually you find your way to a second gate; this one is wooden as well as the first, but the planks are carved decoratively, and while the gate is not locked, it is also not open. Instead, an iron sign hangs from a post nearby, emblazoned with a simple monogram. Below this sign, a gentle request: Tread with Care.

In this second garden, the flowers are taller. The perfume is stronger but somehow more delicate, and the colors are more vibrant, enhanced by the way this second circle overlooks the first. Roses climb trellises in full bloom, delicate orchids sway in the breeze, and the air is fragrant with jasmine and honeysuckle. The pathway is somehow less defined, yet more enchanting; the borders are lined with brilliant greens, and something about this place hints at an unseen sense of longing expectation. There is an inner wall here, too, and you can't resist the urge to look for another gate.

This inner circle isn't as easy to find, but you relish the searching, the sense of adventure, the power in the chance to discover and reveal something more. And there, behind a wall of spilling ivy, a spark of sunlight draws your eye to the gleaming lock on a hidden gate. Intricately carved with swirling filigree that offers only the barest glimpse at the inner sanctum, this gate fills you with a longing to be invited in. You stand a while, contemplating, peering curiously through the vines as cool breezes stir the leaves around you. In the wavering light you see only teasing glimpses of sanctuary beyond: soft grass in rolling pathways that invite bare feet to wander there, heirloom plants rich in scent and color, leaves and petals soft as velvet and lovingly tended. The center of this most inner circle boasts a stunning fountain, with spraying droplets of water shimmering like crystals in the sun as they fall to gather in the pool below. An ancient tree shades a wide stone bench, its branches heavy with fruit so succulent you can't help imagining its sweetness. In this place, you could rest - and you find yourself longing for the peace so plainly found here.

Sadly, you touch the lock, perhaps wishing for a moment that you had the key.

It's only as you make your disappointed way back out of the garden that you spy the evidence of careless footsteps taken by other visitors. Here a trampled bloom, there a gap in the foliage - and beside that second gate, below the beautifully monogrammed sign, a forgotten gum wrapper, so out of place in this beautiful setting. Nearby, a passerby tears a flower from a rosebush, smiling softly to themselves as they lift their prize. Behind them, the newly broken stem shrivels as it mourns the loss, unnoticed.

You recognize now the need for the lock at that inner gate: to step beyond it requires invitation, and to be trusted with the key requires careful intention. The innermost circle isn’t open to everyone, because only those who’ve shown they can walk carefully...those who understand the value of what grows here, are welcome past the gate.

What a dream, right?

The beauty of this metaphor for life and boundary-setting is the recognition that you can cultivate this same protected sense of sanctuary in your own life. You are the garden, friend; you decide when and how the gates open and close, who enters each circle, who gets access to the rarest blooms.

The truth behind the need for this metaphor is this: not everyone will respect the sanctity of what you’ve cultivated, and that’s okay. You don’t have to tear down fences and you don't have to rationalize locks. You don’t owe anyone access to your innermost spaces - especially when they’ve shown they can’t, or won't, tread gently.

It's not about shutting people out in anger or nursing bitter wounds. It’s about generally sharing space - but also choosing to offer access wisely. It’s about knowing your God-given worth, and honoring that worth even when others don’t. It’s about tending, nurturing, and yes, protecting your own garden, so that it remains a place of refuge and joy for those who’ve earned the right to sit on that bench beside you.

At the end of the day, there will always be people who can’t see your worth. Let them walk by, missing the beauty of flowers they’ve been barred from trampling. And know that it's their loss, not yours.

Tend your garden with care. Protect what’s sacred. Welcome what's good. And if you wish, grow something fuchsia in that garden of yours, to help you remember to...