A rose by any other name...flowers are--of all God's creation--most often used in noble symbolism. It is their greatest dignity.
I took a cup and read a bit. George Eliot's words:
It will never rain roses. When we want to have more roses we must plant more trees.
And I read David Kundtz's words reflecting on Eliot's quote in the context of taking a life pause for the sake of life determination: As Eliot says, if you want roses, plant trees. What doing nothing can do is help you know what you really want--is it roses, or gladiolas, or redwoods, or none of those?--so that you don't end up with a beautiful garden of what you don't want.
And I thought, "Yes, yes!"
But then...I read a bit of Ann Voskamp, and I remembered (with the aching sweetness she stirs so well) that even with a pause and even with a plan, even with well-chosen seeds, truth is...things can spring from the soil that are still things you don't want.
I remembered that in the end, it also matters how you put it all on display. There are so many ways to see a vase of flowers:
I dreamed once of preparing a vase of flowers in a sun-filled green kitchen. This dream involved making a choice--which is the heart of all this anyway. I could chose a magnificent cut-crystal vase for this spray of bright and varied flowers that were given into my care; but if I made that choice, then I chose a vase that was chained to its place on the kitchen counter. Soon the flowers in this vase would die for lack of water as it could not reach a spigot anywhere. On the other hand, I could choose a simple vase that was un-anchored and could move about freely. This I could easily fill with water, and the flowers would retain their essential beauty for much longer.
I thought: the beauty of the crystal vase would be marred by a bouquet of dead blooms. Better to leave it empty. The beauty of the humble vase would be enhanced if it nestled such an array, this fountain of shape and color I held trembling in my hand.
To this day, it stands as a dream of happy memory and hopeful future.
To all the mothers who choose well...