What is Your Rose?

Come here you beloved, you people whom My Father has blessed. Claim your inheritance, the Kingdom prepared for you from the beginning of creation. You shall be richly rewarded, for when I was hungry, you fed Me. And when I was thirsty, you gave Me something to drink. I was alone as a stranger, and you welcomed me into your homes and into your lives. I was naked, and you gave Me clothes to wear; I was sick, and you tended to My needs; I was in prison, and you comforted Me. I tell you this; whenever you saw a brother or sister hungry or cold, whatever you did to the least of these so you did to Me. Matthew 25: 35-36, 40 The Voice

A mint passed from my friend, Susie’s hand, to mine. Her son Steve had handed it to her for me. She looked at me and knew why tears dribbled down my cheeks. 

I unwrapped the candy like I had done hundreds of times. Sweetness filled my mouth. Memories filled my mind.

For years, Alan placed hard candy in his pocket before we left for church. At least two  pieces and often more if he knew of visitors sitting with us. At the beginning of the service, he would hand me a piece. I’d give him a smile and my wrapper.

Our little routine continued during his illness and ended with his death. Taking candy for myself wouldn’t have been the same. 

The sweetness in my mouth reminded me of his thoughtfulness and love for me. It brought memories of our worship times together. 

That night Pastor Joel preached about looking for God in the ordinary. He related a story about a lady who received a rose from a stranger just when she needed it. 

After the service, I told Steve how Alan always gave me candy at church. Our ritual was a surprise to him. He told me that he always kept mints in his pocket. With a smile and hug, he said, “That was your rose.”

His simple gesture touched my heart. During my time of grief, I have seen numerable God sightings and received many special roses.

I want to be open to offering roses to others. I also want God to open the eyes of my heart. 

How exciting to think we can all be messengers of God.

Dear Father, thank you for my God sightings. Open my eyes and heart to see and do more. Amen

Healing from Melon Balls

Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again-my Savior and my God! Psalm 42:11 NLT

More tears. Sorrow. I couldn’t shake the sadness of the past few days. Grief grabbed and wouldn’t let go. 

Lunch, with members of my upcoming trip, seemed a burden. How could I face new people with a smile when my heart ached so badly?

I opened the refrigerator. A shiny watermelon mocked me.  With no enthusiasm, I put it on the counter and sliced it in half. 

For years, Alan cut up our watermelons. We joked.  He cut juicy fruit. We sampled and laughed. I cleaned up sticky juice. I missed my team member. 

A far away memory returned. The first time he invited me to his home, he fixed a brunch of bagels and fruit. Watermelon and cantaloupe balls filled a large bowl. As we ate, we looked out over the lake behind his house.

His culinary skills impressed me. Later, I learned how limited they were. We laughed about that too. He had already captured my heart. 

The memory of that day prodded me to rummage through my kitchen drawers. Finally, I found the melon ball maker. With each swipe across the melon, memories swept across my mind. The  bowl filled and so did the empty places in my heart. 

With my bowl of fruit, I headed out to the lunch. I met new friends. Some also grieved recent losses. We bonded in our sadness. 

Prayers enfolded us. By the time I left, my heart felt lighter. Grief lessened a bit. New adventures awaited. 

Dear God, thank you for memories and new opportunities during times of grief. Amen

Traveling the Bridge

The Lord is my light and my salvation-whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life-of whom shall I be afraid? Psalm 27:1 The Voice

Fear crept over me each time I thought of the colossal bridge. As I child, I quavered as I looked down at the rushing waters of Tampa Bay when my dad drove across the mountain sized bridge. 

The skyscraper high structure could be seen for miles. At night it gleamed with a spectacular light display. Ships slid easily under its massive beams. Depressed souls leapt from its ledges. 

In 1980 a freighter crashed into the beams and toppled the top span of the original bridge. In the foggy morning, six cars, a truck and a bus tumbled into the swirling water. Thirty-five people lost their lives in the tragedy. Frantic drivers stopped oncoming traffic to save lives. One car stopped fourteen inches from the edge of the broken road. 

Two years later, a new open, designed bridge replaced the destroyed one. An expansive view of Tampa Bay and the Gulf of Mexico delighted passengers. But for someone uneasy with heights, the view distracted and frightened me. 

I did have a choice. I could travel many miles further through Tampa with traffic and road construction to reach my friend’s home in St. Petersburg. That option didn’t appeal to me either.

Logic told me to choose the shorter but scary route. No cars had fallen off the new bridge. Over fifty thousands vehicles traveled over it each day. Surely, I wouldn’t be the first.

I decided to look at the trip as an adventure instead of an obstacle. Looking at a map, it made sense. Only in my mind did the journey become a problem. 

I began praying. God had walked with me during endless trial. He would continue to do it. 

Just as I approached the toll booth for my adventure, drops splattered my windshield. Adding rain to an already scary drive made it even worse. However, a few miles down the road, it stopped.

A fishing pier sign appeared. The normal interstate turned into a road with water on both sides. Causeways led to the base of the summit.

All around me, cars whizzed by. I glanced out at Tampa Bay to my right and the Gulf of Mexico on my left. Tiny boats rocked in the waves. No one slowed as they approached the ascent. 

Gradually, my car rose above the blue waters. Sunlight broke through the clouds. I wanted to stare at the beautiful expanse of rippling water. But I could only glance at the panorama which stretched for miles and miles.

As I crested the summit, I announced, “ I made it!!” 

On the downward trip, I caught more glimpses of the incredible view and marveled at my accomplishment. It was actually fun. I had faced my fear and won.

During the last year and a half, life presented me with innumerable fears and obstacles. I faced them and went on because I had no other acceptable option. 

Fear of the bridge grew and robbed me of peace and contentment. Scaling the Skyway, reminded me that with God’s help, I can face whatever comes my way. 

Loving Father, thank you for taking my hand and leading me through the trials of my life. Amen

A Different Kind of Anniversary

Revelation 21: 4 The prophecies are fulfilled: He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more, pain no more, for the first things have gone away. 

The Voice

Matthew 5: 4 Blessed are those who mourn-they will be comforted. The Voice

Psalm 147: 3 He binds their wounds, heals the sorrows of their hearts. The Voice

Tears blurred the words as I read the above verses in my daily devotional. How do you celebrate an anniversary when half of the team is missing? 

As the sun rose, swatches of pink swept across the pale sky. Could Alan see the sunrise? Was he aware of our ninth anniversary? 

Tears stopped. I remembered our life together. Though too short, we experienced years of travel, fun, and adventure. Pleasant times mixed with difficult ones.

We learned and grew. Age helped us overlook minor annoyances. We embraced important ones. Laughter made it easier. 

We loved. God. Each other. Family members. Friends. Those we met on missions. Love intertwined our lives and healed the broken places. 

He encouraged me to be more adventuresome and took me places around the world I never imagined I would go. 

I took him out of his small world at home so he could discover his nearby world. When we met, he went to work, to exercise, and to church. His life of being a near hermit ended.

Today will be a day of smiles and tears. Remembering. I wish I could hold him one more time. Hear him say, “I love you.” 

I am so thankful for the years we had together. That is a special gift from God that I treasure.

Heavenly Father, be with me as I celebrate the time I had with Alan. Thank you for that gift. Amen

Thriving Despite Afflictions

Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me. Yes, I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing. John 15: 4-5 NLT

Bright pink flowers  popped out. One. Two. Then fifteen blooms adorned the green plant. 

After friends brought the plant to Alan and me a couple of years ago, I placed it in a permanent pot. Faithfully, I watered it often. In shock, I watched the leaves fall off. 

The naked sticks puzzled me. I changed its location. Fertilized it. Moved it to a larger pot. With more space, it only leaned over. Nothing helped the plant or my disappointment. 

One day I noticed similar specimens blooming at a nursery. All were in small pots with roots showing at the top. The label said it was a desert rose. 

Determined to revive the pitiful plant, I repotted it into a smaller container. With more sunshine and occasional water, it was on its own. 

Leaves sprouted. Green covered spindly branches. Tiny buds appeared. They burst open with vibrant color. Each day more blooms emerged. It flourished. 

The plant I thought was dead gave me encouragement and beauty. With dry soil, hot sun, and minimum care, it thrived. 

When life is rough, I can survive like my desert rose. Losing Alan, Mother, and Dad in such a short time felt overwhelming. The conditions I faced seem like a desert with no end. But I learned I can grow and flourish too.

If God returns a spindly plant to life, how much more is He going to help me grow. The process won’t be quick or easy. Some days I will have to search to see any glimpse of growth. Other times there will be delightful developments. 

My life is not the same. Patience is my constant ally. Priorities have changed. People are more dear. Stuff is less important. God is closer.

Every time I gaze at my desert rose, I smile with understanding and hope.

Creator, thank you for reviving my plant and me. When I am discouraged, I know you are with me. Amen