…Behind the splendor of a white picket fence was a rose; a little rose, buried in the loam of a garden amidst other roses.
One morning, it woke to the voices of some bigger roses, bantering back and forth on where to go as the gardener had mentioned in passing an apparent drought, the night before.
Unreservedly they shared their fears; “What if the gardener forgets us?” “What if the irrigation systems are clogged?” A dozen “what if”s and some spare.
The little rose listened as they schemed. They knew the gardener came to harvest roses for sale in the mornings.
These roses would be watered daily, they presumed. Kept in a vase, and adored by men. (Roses thrive on attention, you know?) So, they wittingly bent their stems; apparently deformed, the gardener would prune and sell them off to the next willing buyers.
The little rose, however, loved the gardener.
Not wanting him to suffer loss, it decided to stay in the garden. The bigger roses mocked and reeled. They knew better than the gardener. After all, they were roses, the gardener was human.
In a few weeks, however, in their various vases, all the bigger roses began to wither. Try hard as they did, they could not grow bigger too. Poor things didn’t remember in their planning to take the garden soil with them, because leaving the garden means death.
But surely, Death had come.
They looked from the vases in the kitchen (as they withered, they were relegated to anterooms) as the rain fell in pellets, enough to have given them life and wished they were back in the garden.
Sadly, choices made cannot be undone.
The little rose, however, who never left in search of water, but stayed in trust, never lacked water. Each day it was visited by the gardener, with the most loving words and water, just enough for its survival.
As the drought passed and the rains returned, the little rose blossomed…
Like the little rose, may we learn to stay in the garden.
May we learn daily to trust the Gardener, even when He’s no rose.
May we never in search for water (love) scheme our way to death;For in the garden is Love, Light and Life.
And may we in trust be content not knowing the plans of the Gardener.
©G. G. Joseph
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