Two years ago I planted four roses outside my bedroom. Even though Cayce's dog clawed all the winter protection off them and then further insulted the plants by chewing their stems, the roses all came back this year more beautiful than before. I've loved yellow roses for many years, and they bring back memories of one of my dad's co-workers in Silverdale who owned a boat we'd go fishing out on. Sometimes he or his wife would pick me a yellow rose from their big bush that grew outside their front porch. They knew how much I loved that plant and its blooms. Yellow roses don't remind me of fishing trips, but instead the small kindness that others showed me by giving me them as a gift.
This year all four roses (pink/red, yellow, red, white tea rose) were lovely and displayed a fragrant aroma. I've enjoyed picking them and putting them in my room. I've forgotten every time to replenish the water in the vase, so I've had many dried roses. Even the dried ones smell amazing and look beautiful in their own way.My roses are a simple lesson that while one is young and full of energy, life can be lovely and show the goodness of God living in their life. Just so when one is old and a bit dried up, the life can still be fragrant of the Lord's goodness.
Aw... yellow roses are special to me too. When I was little we were kind of in the middle of moving at one point, and my dad had to stay and work while the rest of us went to down to CA. We were staying with family, and one day my dad sent red roses to all of the ladies in the house. Mine was supposed to be yellow, because that was my favorite color. Even though they must have messed up the order or something and I got red, it's special to me that my dad did that for me. :)
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