Story of a Rose…
I remember, when I was very young, the first time I ever saw a rose. It was on the rosebush in our yard, and I was drawn to it. I touched its soft petals. I smelled its amazing scent. I felt deeply, the red, red of its color, and wondered at the bright yellow within it. In that moment, I felt the connection, the mystery, the wonder, of being alive.
What made the rose? What made me? What was our connection? It has never left me. It has been with me always.
It was the beginning of my appreciation, my search, my observation, and my wondering, wandering discovery of life around me and what place I might have within it. How we are somehow all connected. The flowers, me, my family, strangers on the street. The ground upon which we walk. The sky overhead. The joy, the pain. The fact of being and of wondering why. What is it all for?
And I knew, and I know, it is leading me somewhere, leading me onward. That life is not random. That I am here for a reason, just as the rose is here for a reason. Just as you are here for a reason.
Still, I wonder.
And I wonder, do you wonder, too?