Yes, I’m Writing About Roses
Sunday, 7 December 2008 09:19
Rose petals, to be exact.
There are these rose bushes outside of my home. Very pretty, indeed – as long as the roses are in bloom. Then, you better look fast, because the things don’t just lose a few petals as they pass their prime, they seem to literally explode – you go out the next day, and the rose is gone, with a littering of petals all over the ground.
Looking at the remains of a rose is not unlike looking at the remains of a tree – there are all these leaves everywhere – there’s nothing left to do but clean up. Party’s over. reclaim the lawn in the name of keeping the neighborhood green.
I never gave it a second thought. Rose explodes – clean it up. All done.
Until I took a walk today. Today I see a rose differently. More accurately, I see the end of a rose differently. And perhaps, I see some other things differently, as well.
I ventured off my normal walk and crossed over to uncharted territory – the next bock. There, I spied a mother and two young girls, maybe eight and ten. They had the same trouble – rose bushes across the front of the house. Sure enough, they had exploded, just like mine. Red ones, white ones. Lawn litter.
But they weren’t cleaning. They were playing.
To the mother and her daughters, these petals were a marvelous plaything provided by God. The girls were snatching up similar colored petals, and throwing them high above their heads. Beautiful showers of color enveloped them. I had the odd image of fireworks. Mother Nature Brand fireworks. There were smiles and laughter. The mother and I shared a glance and a smile. I then continued on, with a few thoughts to ponder.
Perhaps you have something in your life that you consider “lawn litter.” Something that you consider all done – nothing left. I would say take another look. Someone might not be done with that. You might not be done with that. There may be some life in it still. Take a moment to reassess – there may be quite a bit of joy in the exploration.
I know I will. And I’m looking forward to the next rose explosion.
