Marlena's Roses
The other day I walked up the pathway to my front door and looked over at Marlena's Rose bush. I planted this rose bush on the year anniversary of her birth/death, which makes this plant 17 years old now.
Somehow some other sort-of-like-a-rose-plant has gotten tangled up in Marlena's rose and a part of me thought I should just dig them both up.
That is until yesterday, a few minutes before I took this photo.
Several roses had bloomed in between my thought of "dig up" and the "wait, look, learn" that happened yesterday.
I bent down to smell the flowers. I inhaled, deeply. I noted the tangled interloper and realized this phenomenon was a metaphor to me to learn from, not to destroy because it was too painful to see.
How often do we look at things and immediately leap to "too much trouble" or "too difficult" or "not exactly as I want" rather than waiting, opening and connecting.
Interesting, isn't it, that my would-be-eighteen-years-old-if-she-had-lived daughter teaches me so many lessons, still.
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