Photo courtesy of Leepak’s photos and is licensed under the Creative Commons License
The Rose that Grew From Concrete
Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature’s law is wrong it learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams, it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else ever cared.
Photo Courtesy of Freebird and is licensed under the Creative Commons License.
It is only a tiny rosebud,
A flower of God’s design;
But I cannot unfold the petals
With these clumsy hands of mine.
The secret of unfolding flowers
Is not known to such as I.
GOD opens this flower so sweetly,
Then in my hands they die.
If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
This flower of God’s design,
Then how can I have the wisdom
To unfold this life of mine?
So I’ll trust in Him for leading
Each moment of my day.
I will look to him for His guidance
Each step of the way.
The pathway that lies before me,
only my Heavenly Father knows.
so trust Him to unfold the moments,
Just as He unfolds the rose.
Let Go and Let God Unfold
“You can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses.” –
Where flowers bloom so does hope.
– Lady Bird Johnson, Public Roads: Where Flowers Bloom
At dawn I asked the lotus,
‘What is the meaning of life?’
Slowly she opened her hand
with nothing in it.
– Debra Woolard Bender, Paper Lanterns
There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud
was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
– Anais Nin
Photo courtesy of catdancing and is licensed under the Creative Commons
Approaching a tree we approach a sacred being who can teach us about love and about endless giving. She is one of millions of beings who provide our air, our homes, our fuel, our books. Working with the spirit of the tree can bring us renewed energy, powerful inspiration, deep communion.
~Druid Tree Lore, Ovate Grade lecture
A lovely rose with petals soft
A scent so sweet and light
So beautiful a flower
With colors shining bright.
But something not so savory
About the fragrant rose –
The thorns, so sharp upon the stem,
That sharpen as it grows.
Yet still lovely is the flower
Despite the thorns that prick
Just as life and love are sweet
They too have thorns that stick.
But do not fear to live or love,
Life’s not exempt from pain –
So pick a rose, you may get hurt,
But you will also gain!
“How can I do what you say,” asked the child, “and still be me?”
“Look at me,” said the tree. “I bend in the wind, droop in the rain. Yet I always remain myself, a tree.”
“Look at me,” said the man. “I can’t change.”
“Look at me,” said the tree. “I change every season from green to brown to green again, from bud to flower to fallen leaf. Yet I always remain myself, a tree.”
“I can’t love anymore,” said the woman. “With my love, I have given away all that I am.”
“Look at me,” said the tree. “There are robins in my branches, owls in my trunk, moss and ladybugs living on my bark. They may take what I have, but not what I am.”
Whether we know it or not, we are like the tree. Only our pride hangs on to a false sense of self, wanting to keep everything, refusing to follow advice or spiritual direction.
What we do doesn’t matter; how we do it is what counts. Change and growth is as natural as the sun coming up every morning and the setting of it every night. Go with what is inside you and listen to what your heart tells you. Why not if even for just today, reach out once more to a place that exists outside yourself without fear or judgment for yourself or from others . . . just once more.
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. – Plato
Photo courtesy of ZR and is licensed under the Creative Commons License
Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed
It’s the heart, afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
It’s the dream, afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
It’s the one who won’t be taken
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul, afraid of dying
That never learns to live
When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed
That with the sun’s love, in the spring
Becomes the rose
Photo Courtesy of CordieB. Share as you like.
In the flower shop
The woman was strolling through a shopping mall when she noticed a poster announcing a new flower shop. When she went in, she got a shock; she saw no vases, no arrangements, and it was God in person who stood behind the counter.
“You can ask for whatever you want,” said God.
“I want to be happy. I want peace, money, the capacity to be understood. I want to go to heaven when I die. And I want all this to be granted to my friends too.”
God opened a few pots that were on the shelf behind him, removed some grains from inside, and handed them to the woman.
“Here you have the seeds,” He said. “Begin to plant them, because here we don’t sell the fruits.”
~Paulo Coelho, A Warrior of the Light