These were the roses that so fearlessly climbed the ancient walls of cathedrals and universities who have been around for longer than our nation has been in existence let alone “discovered”.
These were the roses that Shakespeare looked upon and used their beauty to show how families, status, traditions and long held hatreds could not stop love. “A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet” (Romeo and Juliet Act II, Scene II).
These were the roses that also held thorns that became woven into a crown for One whose sacrifice was more painful than imaginable but more beautiful, glorious and precious than the roses.
These were the roses that I in part laid on your casket and still have one bud dried and next to your picture.
These were the roses that carry so much history, so much grief, so much love.
These are the roses I’ve held in reserve for my own hopes and dreams and lay them at Your feet saying as best I can “not my will but Yours be done”.
I know You see me, You are with me, You care and You have a plan.
