Since I have to send a bouquet tomorrow, I clipped a few clusters of what we call my Mother's Day rose.
The sprawling, scrubby bush was the only plant in our original fixer-upper's yard, but we were too busy sanding floors to dig it up.
Imagine my surprise on our first Mother's Day, when it burst into clusters of snowy white blossoms. That was such a special spring. When it came time to move on, I took a few clippings to the next home. They struggled to adjust--but a year later I dug a tiny branch for the new house.
Neither my husband nor I look forward to pruning the mammoth shrub that little slip has become. Its tiny sharp thorns will cut through gloves with the fierceness of a protective mother.
Its adaptability, its abundant growth, its ability to thrive just about anywhere--all aspects of motherhood I hope to cultivate in my own life. Wouldn't it be nice to pass along a cutting of this rose for my grandchildren's gardens?
As the Word of God has taken root among God’s people. “I grew tall like a palm tree in En-gedi, and like rosebushes in Jericho” -Wisdom 24:14