Roses Have Thorns For A Reason

I have now pruned over 25 rose bushes on our campus at work in the last week.  When I close my eyes, I see an imprint of the bud unions, dead and crossed canes laden with now blistered rose buds.  The roses that bloomed later this fall because the weather has been so warm became blistered with the frost and failed to open.  It is as if they were stopped in their tracks from opening and revealing the beauty within on these freezing mornings and warm, warm afternoons in northern California.

I have a pair of hand clippers and two loppers which I use to save my old hands.  I am pretty good at this and my co-workers were not doing the pruning.  Too girlie I guess.  Actually, they went off together as they usually do because it is some strange sexist male bonding thing to work together, and dug an enormous hole in one of the lawns.  They were looking for a water leak they never found.  Of course, this is the macho work that they seem to think needs doing.  As my mother used to say, "Another flock flew over."

I thought of roses as an analogy for my life today as something that is forbidding because of the pain those thorns incur even on gloved hands.  They bite and they have a simple beauty that forces us to endure their inflicted pain.  Life is difficult at times like today, last week or last month.  And yet life holds the beauty of a warm winter afternoon with robins nearby in the underbrush, sun on my tired shoulders and an appreciation of a paycheck tomorrow. 

Like roses, life has thorns and I do my best to admire the beauty that evolves, small and way big, while handling the sharpness of disappointment and struggles with gloves and a delicate touch for my sensitive heart.  I send out understanding to all who travel with me in hopes that they will find solace, peace and compassion tonight. May the road rise with you and may there be more than a few blooming rose bushes along the way.