blooms and stories

ETA- my lovely mother-in-law left this in the comments. Please pray for Charles Cleveland and his family. Charles is nearing the end of his journey here and the entire family needs your prayers too. Comments left here will be forwarded to the family.



These roses are at the corner of my house. Old fashioned roses. I am dedicated to caring for these and it takes a huge amount of my time and energy to do so. BIG FAT LIE. They are at the corner of the front porch. The lie is the amount of care I give them. The soft yellow is a piece of a climbing rose that I dug up at the house where I grew up. it is hardy and drought tolerant. We run over it with the lawn mower to keep it from completely taking over the corner. The red was a gift for some event. Yes some of the leaves are spotted, but it does not take away from the beauty of the blooms.

The yellow rose has a story. When I was small, my family would ride on Sunday afternoons. (gas prices have all but eliminated that kind of family time.) Many time my sister and I would ride in the back of the truck - standing up against the cab - wind in our hair. Redneck southern girl roots. Mom saw these roses blooming in a ditch and made my dad stop and dig one up. Of course dad bitched and moaned and groaned, but he did it. The rose is covering the corner of the driveway at the old house now.

I read Corey's post today with tears in my eyes. My dad was loved by so many people. He was outgoing and funny and helpful. When he was killed, the world stopped turning. In my eyes, he had that kind of power. I remember the line at the funeral home feeling endless, as friends and relatives poured into the room. There were stories and laughter and tears as well. He is still remembered fondly by so many people. I remember the chapel being full for the service. I remember the heat of the September day at the graveside. I remember just wanting it all to be over. Wanting to figure out where to start again. And yet I didn't start again. Not for many, many years. Not until the love of those closest to me helped me pour a healing balm over that wound. Corey described her fathers death as beautiful. Surrounded by the love of family and friends. She described a courageous man who dies as he lived with grace and dignity. Her words today reminded me of the restart I finally made, to live fully and freely and to bless as many as I can as I journey through this life. Her words reminded me of the celebration that was my fathers life and of the hole he left when he passed away in so many peoples hearts.

Please lift Corey and her family up at this very difficult time. The love and compassion of others is healing. Prayers are heard and felt by those connected . My dad would be amazed at the way this medium connects so many people around this now very small world. I am amazed at this medium and how connected I feel to many of you. Thank you from the bottom of my being for every comment, email, and kindness you have extended to me.

Have a wonderful day.