“We are hard pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed—always carrying about in the body the dying of our Lord Jesus, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body.” 2 Corinthians 4: 8-10

The Rose

It was the middle of winter when I noticed the yellow rose with the pink-tinged petals outside my kitchen window. It should have withered with the rest of the blooms months ago, but already it had survived a deluge of rain, ferocious winds, and a couple of snowstorms. What a brave little rose. Strange.

Right about that time, my husband was recovering from a major surgery, and an avalanche of extra “everything” moved into our home. My once so-called on-top-of-it life came crashing down like a brick wall in a super-quake. Where was the woman who could handle it all? Apparently, she had “left the building”, and bouts of secret crying fits and despair had moved in. I cried out to the Lord, “What’s wrong with me, Lord? Why can’t I handle this? I feel like I’m dying inside.”

One morning, as I labored through another mound of dirty dishes, and endless extra chores, I couldn’t help but notice that the little yellow rose was still blooming its heart out outside the window. So very odd, I thought. How can that be, Lord? Blooming in all that adversity? Why couldn’t I be like that? Why? Why? Why?

Turns out, my husband’s recovery was revealing an abyss of self-pity deep within my heart. Who knew?!? Well, apparently the Lord knew. And He knew just what it would take for me to see it.

Finally, my husband recovered and, praise the Lord, he was back to his normal self. I happened to look out the window and notice the yellow rose with the pink-tinged petals had finally withered. Bracing myself for the cold, I went outside and plucked it off the stem, holding it gingerly in my hand, as I pondered that strange season I myself had just been through.

It’d been a storm all right, a tempest, a snowstorm, and a tornado all rolled into one. Yes, some part of me had died, but really, it had to go. And the little yellow rose, well, I have no doubt God’s hand was in its endurance.

“Thank You, Lord, for Your patience and love, as You wait for us to see the things You want us to place in Your hands. And, Lord, help us to see with Your eyes the little roses You place along our way. Amen!”