Dear God,

I was just thinking about my life and my garden. About the roses Papa gave me before he died. There's a story and a testimony in my garden.

Before he died, my Papa gave me 13 rose bushes. They were beautiful. Some were striped, some pastel, some vibrant. All beautiful, and each different. I planted them around my front yard as it saw the most sun. But for reasons of balance, I planted a salmon colored rose in a dark corner. Not truly dark, but farther from the light than anywhere else. In a corner under the eaves out of direct sunlight.

The roses looked beautiful. But it was short lived because the soil was far too acidic for them. And one by one they died. All except the one in the corner. It grew at an angle, reaching for the sunlight. Straining to catch whatever rays it could. My husband kept telling me to cut it back, cut it back. But I only cut it as far as the shade hit it. So it continued to grow at a 45 to 60 degree angle in an attempt to get sunlight.

I thought about moving it further into the yard to let it get the sunlight it wanted. But I was afraid that if I dug it up, I'd lose it. And it was the last gift I had received from my Papa. It was growing and that was enough.

Then we had a hail storm and a wickely cold winter. I had to cut it all the way back for the winter, and in the spring there was only a blackish stick in the ground. My husband delcared it dead and wanted to pull it up. I refused. Leave it be, if only as a remembrance for my Papa. And we let it be. A few weeks went by and, lo and behold, there was a sprig of new growth on that dirty stick in the mud. And once again it grew at a 45 degree angle reaching and straining into the sunlight. It even flowered that year. Beautiful salmon blossoms of perfection.

Then Hurricane Katrina came, and it was trod again into the dirt. Now it was flat on the ground and broken. My husband and I cut it back and propped it upright and gave it a little fertilizer. And sure enough, it started to come back. I was delighted! Against all odds, this little rose bush was determined to grow!

Katrina had knocked her into the dirt, but she was coming back!

Then the roofers came. I asked them to be extra careful of my little rose bush. It meant a lot to me. They covered it with a tarp, supposedly to protect it. But as it turned out, they threw all the old tiles from the roof right on top of it. When I came home, I was as crushed as the rose bush. This time the main stalk was broken three quarters of the way through; just snapped over. "No amount of propping is going to save it this time," Kevin said. "You want me to pull it out?" "No, just leave it. I'll decide what I want to do tomorrow," I said.

The roofer offered to buy me another rose bush, but I declined. I told him to forget it. The next day, I cut it back but not all the way to the break. I just leaned the pieces back together and propped it upright with a pipe. Then I buried it in potting soil and watered it with Miracle Grow ('cuz I felt like it would take a miracle for it to grow!).

Well, to Your glory, my God, not only has it grown back, but there is a fresh new stalk growing out of the ground alongside the still-broken one. Both are growing hearty green stalks and producing lots of lovely salmon roses. Both stretching and reaching into the sunlight.

Lord, I so identify with this rose bush. I was taken and planted in a dark little corner of my world. And it has been my determination to know you, to see you, to reach you. As the Master Gardener, I know you have to cut me back from time to time to help me grow. And sometimes the elements get to me and I get trudged into the mud. But still I reach out for you. People have trampled and broken me, and most definitely I have felt snapped, almost in two. But by your grace and strength, I'm still here. I'm still growing. I'm still reaching out for you. And now I believe I'll be bringing more with me. Something new and fresh: fruit!

What good is being a rose bush if all you are is a thorny stick in the mud? There needs to be not only proof of growth, but flowers! And it's only self-serving if it doesn't grow and produce more like it.

Everyone tells me roses are hard to grow. By the experiences in my life, I agree. Things can get tough.

The only hope that little rose bush had was my love for it. And my only hope is the love You have for me. I'm so grateful for the love and attention you have showered on me. Many times, I've felt like a broken, thorny stick in the mud. But your love has encouraged me so much that I have green leaves and buds breaking out all over! I pray to bring pleasure to your eyes and fill your senses with a pleasant fragrance that will bring a smile to your lips. Just as my roses - sent from you - bring joy to my life. I love you, Lord.

Love Always,
 
Rose