62 Shouts For Joy

My Teeny Bopper Rose Bush My soul needs spring. It's rejuvenating. I feel reflective and hopeful. The sunshine and the Kelly green bring my soul solace and peace from the dreary winter.

Today, I pruned back my rose bush, as I do each March. To anyone who visits my home, he or she probably doesn't think much about any of the plants in my yard. However, I've planted each one of them. I chose them. I grew them. I've nurtured them. I've prayed over them, and I've come alive again from their growth.

I've struggled with my decision to prune things back this year. Houston didn't experience much of a winter. In fact, I think we had one short freeze and that was it. My Hibiscus (Hibisci for plural??) lost all of the flowers and leaves on their branches, and my winter garden finished its harvest, but other than that, nothing went dormant. In fact, I had roses throughout December, January, and February. I've seen so much growth in my roses that the stems have reached a mere three-feet and spanned over our stones.

Several mornings now, I have approached my rose bush with clippers in hand, but walked away, because it made me too sad to do it. I know what you're thinking: "It's a rose bush for crying out loud! Good grief!" I can't explain it, but it literally pained me and ailed me to think about cutting back any of the branches on this little bush. Perhaps, I feel that way, because I've seen this tiny bush grow from start to finish. I thought I had actually lost it two years ago, but the stems turned green again and new buds developed.

This morning, I decided it was time. I brought out a clear glass vase to place the beautiful blooms in, and then, I carefully trimmed back each branch. As I did so, I felt a mixture of emotions. Honestly, I had this internal and silent conversation with my rose bush. Again, I felt so sad and even pained to cut it back, but with each question from the bush as to why or how I could do such a thing, I replied, "I don't want to cut you back. It pains me so, but I want you to grow. I want you to flourish."

As I participated in this silent and maybe half-crazy conversation, it dawned on me that this is how Heavenly Father feels about me. I don't think He savors in our despair or when we fall so hard. I know He feels sad and physical pain from our sorrows and our struggles. But He knows that in order for us to grow and become what He wants us to become, we must be cut back and pruned. We must struggle to be strengthened.

I'm ever grateful to have learned this lesson today via my little rose bush.