I never started out with the intention to name my rose bushes after people as I planted them. But it happened in the early months of 1993. And it happened because of a dear friend and my first rose bush.
As I was planting my first rose bush, I was thinking of my friend, Melissa Kinder. I always find that playing in the dirt gets me somehow closer to God. I was praying for her, she was very ill and we knew God would soon call her home.
I dug the hole and just as I was putting the rose bush in, which was to be a beautiful red, American Beauty Rose, my phone rang with the news that Missy had passed. I looked at the rose bush and as I patted the ground around it I said to it, and you shall be named Missy.
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A picture of Missy | |
Since then, I have planted the Jaime, Dana and Eric rose bushes, in various colors along with the rose that my son and daughter-in-law brought home in a vase from the Penn State Winter Formal dance WHICH I successfully rooted and planted out with the others, appropriately named, the Bobby and Amy rose.
The Missy Rose will alway be near and dear to my heart. Missy is continually the first to bloom each and every year. I sometimes cut the first bloom and give it to someone who might need a little cheering. It is like Missy always knows.
Well, sure enough, today I noticed Missy is in bud, and with raindrops on it I took a picture of Missy. I share the picture with you, and maybe Missy will bring you a little joy today. I know she always makes me smile; and at the same time helps me remember how precious and how fragile friendships are.
Missy made the handbell choir learn "Simple Gifts", because it was one of her favorites. It starts out:
Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
Her love and delight were her two daughters, whom she left too soon.
My favorite song coincidentally is "The Rose" which has my favorite line of all time-
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.
That's another day in Catasauqua.