Roses

When the Roses Speak, I Pay Attention

Mary Oliver (excerpt)

"As long as we are able to

be extravagant we will be

hugely and damply

extravagant. Then we will drop

foil by foil to the ground. This

is our unalterable task, and we do it

joyfully."

I've never been a big fan of hothouse roses. They don't have that incredible rose smell and they have that too perfect look that comes from being hybridized so much. Plus they often wilt and don't open up or so I thought until I began to notice the discount floral basket at the grocery this Fall. Here tucked in among the other drooping occupants were several dozen roses in various shades of red and rose and pink. They were beautiful and they were half price. I had company coming, so I bottled my righteousness and swooped up a bunch thinking they would at least last through the weekend.

To my surprise, the roses not only lasted, but they gently opened into lush graceful blossoms. Thinking this must be a fluke, I nonetheless scanned the discount basket the next time I was at the store. Sure enough, there were more, drastically reduced and looking for a home. I bought two bunches. Same result--beautiful, lasting blooms. I began to soften up about minding there wasn't a fragrance, especially when the sight of them during the rainy grey days of Fall lifted my heart.

When it came time to decorate for Christmas I went to the woods and cut boughs of cedar and pine and placed them around the house. Their tangy smell was wonderful and on my trip to stock up for the holiday dinner I again returned with roses, this time a deep, blood red. Their beautiful faces nestled among the pine were gorgeous.

Just after New Years, I was expecting my last batch of guests. When I visited the discount basket to my amazement there were now twice the roses for the marked down price. There among the castoff bouquets were masses of soft, wintry white roses--perfect for celebrating the arrival of a new year. I filled the house and every guest bedroom with them.

There's a homily here of course, or as I like to say: "a term paper", but I'm sure you can sort that part out. It is true we can become set in our assumptions or get tied to what we have always thought and by doing so, miss some wonderful experiences. I get that part. What I didn't realize until later however, became the real gift.
Roses have long been a symbol of love, but they also represent healing love and love at hand. My family was able to be together this past holiday more than it has in so many years. We enjoyed being together enormously.Thinking back I can't help but feel all the roses were setting the stage for the love at hand around our table and filling this house. Does it matter whether or not that's true? I wonder. All I know is ,I am grateful.

And they went on."Listen,

the heart-shackles are not, as you think,

death, illness, pain,

unrequited hope, not loneliness, but

lassitude, rue, vainglory, fear, anxiety,

selfishness."