The Lesson of the Roses

Once upon a time, an oak tree and a rose bush lived side by side. They drank the same raindrops and received the same rays of sun. Life was golden and good.

Occasionally, they would converse. The tree would tell the roses they looked extra beautiful in the morning light, and the roses would thank the tree for the comforting shade he had provided for so many years.

They both loved giving joy to the people who lived in the house. The oak tree’s shimmering leaves and the bush’s blushing blooms brought a smile to everyone who passed by.

The two friends lived contentedly side by side for years, enjoying the good life they’d been given, believing that it would remain the same for all the years to come.

And then one day, it all changed.

It was an unspeakably distressing day, and it came upon them without warning. They opened their eyes from their evening rest and saw the street filled with unfamiliar men and roaring, threatening machines.

As the rose bush shuddered all through its petals, the oak told them not to fret, that he was strong and sturdy, and he would keep them safe. And they–the oak and the bush–both believed the story spoken from one friend to another.

Until the men and the machines turned their noise and destruction in their direction.

At first, the oak tree wasn’t afraid. His roots were deep, and his strength had matched a thousand storms. But he had never come up against the fury of manmade machines. They began to hew his highest limbs and continue their way down his trunk, cutting, scarring, destroying, while his friend, the rose bush, huddled in its place.

The bush asked the oak tree what was happening and if everything was going to be okay, but its faithful friend was in his last moments and could not answer.  His majestic height had been decimated, his body parts spread across the yard as a silent witness to what had just taken place.  The roses lifted their pink faces and wept for their friend before they, too, were ground into the dust.

The dirt where the tree had stood was empty. The blossom-filled bounty of the bush was gone.

Down beneath the ground . . .

the trampled bits of bush gathered and grieved.  What had just happened? They had thought that life under the sun, next to their tree friend, was going to last forever.  They couldn’t see above the ground, but they imagined how ugly and naked it must look with no regal tree and no blooming bush.

The roots and stalks and petals spoke a few more words to each other, and then were silent. What was the point of talking? Would it take away their pain? Their loss? Their trauma?  It was all over. Life as they knew it was done.

Many days went by. Silence was the only sound heard beneath the soil

And then one day . . .

a  rose appeared in the place where there used to be nothing. The first thing she saw was the aftermath of the destruction.  She was tempted to give up and lie back down in defeat. Everything was so different from what it had always been. And no other roses  had joined her. She was alone.

Winter was coming, and the cold and ice had to be endured. Was it worth the challenge and discomfort to stay above the ground, to risk the unknown?

The rose didn’t realize that as she stood up against the cold and ice, the struggle would make her even more beautiful.

And she continued to hold on. And on.

She held on through the short days and the long nights–alone, but growing stronger and taller, even as she faced the grayness of winter. And as she did, she began to feel the stirrings of something that felt a little like hope. She began to feel the stirrings of spring.

As weeks passed . . .

the rose was joined by more buds who had awakened and broken through the dirt, riding aloft on their stalks. They turned their heads on the breeze and saw it all. The yard. The sun. The sky. The birds. The world was still there.  They saw that even in the rubble, life remained.

More and more roses appeared from the dirt and stood tall, still missing their tree friend, but determined not to let their loss cause them to stay entombed.

As spring began to unfold, without any flourishes or fanfare, a whole choir of roses rose from the ground and raised their heads to the sky, letting their strength and beauty be their praise.

They had been stomped, cut, and shoveled beneath the dirt, into a place that could easily have been their grave. But instead of giving up, they looked around and found that Life still remained. They knew they could make a new start. They knew they could once again bring joy to everyone who saw them, if they would just raise their heads and inhabit their God-given space.

They were trampled, but are now in full flower. Destroyed, but now restored. Broken, but now beautiful.

Never forget the lesson of the roses.

What about you?

Have you come back from something hard in your life? Please share as much as you are comfortable.