The Rose

My husband planted a lovely dark pink rosebush outside our office window last month.  I don’t usually sit in our office to write, I usually sit in the living room, where I feel less isolated.  I also sit in the living room to enjoy the birds at our feeder – Savannah is on many flight pathways, so we have an extraordinary variety.  The living room window looks out on our bird feeder and the beautiful Celtic knot bird bath that we bought my husband for Christmas. (It’s another post to say that I feel guilty sometimes that I enjoy the gift I bought almost more than the recipient does.)

Until recently, I didn’t think the office window looked out at very much.  An oak tree.  The front yard.  An occasional car on the street.  But the splash of that rose bush drew my eye there tonight as I enjoyed the mystery of Gregorian chant.  At first I thanked God for the rose bush.  But then I began to thank God for the oak tree behind it, the front yard, even the car that passed on the street.  My husband and son came home before the music was finished.  They didn’t want to interrupt, but I called them over.  I wanted to share the rose with them.  They asked a few questions.  It was sacred time.

God was there too.  God showed me the blossoming rose at the top, as well as the tight green buds all around it.  Some blossoms are dying just as new blossoms prepare to spring forth.  The Lord said to me, “The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever” (Isaiah 40: 8).  It was not a curse, but a promise.  Somehow, tonight, even the fading was beautiful.

I was inspired today by a book I purchased and started: April Yamasaki’s Sacred Pauses.  She asks the question how can we find renewal every day, not just in the breaks and vacations and down times of our lives.  I didn’t have a long time with God and with the rose, but it was enough time.  Especially it was enough time to see beyond the rose – a sacred gift. I am more centered to write and enjoy the Carolina wren  at the feeder and the way the shadow of evening makes the Celtic knot seem somehow both more and less substantial at the same time.

Are there beautiful things in your life that help you see more – more clearly, more focused or maybe just more?  Where are your favorite places to work or meditate?  What happens when you change locations?

My husband ran out with his camera to get me a picture of the rose. He won’t see all the things that I saw.  God will show him something different.  But he always sees something amazing.  See more of his pictures at

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