Rose Garden Wilderness

A couple weeks ago I needed time. 

Time to think and ponder and wait and listen and just BE. 

I get a lot of that at my job actually, but that day I needed more (a very rare thing for this extrovert!) 

Major points for presentation! 

So I grabbed a bad-for-me-but-very-very-yummy pumpkin spice latte and french toast bagel from Panera Bread (they have the best PSLs) and went in search of a little wilderness in the city.

My wilderness? A rose garden.

It was distracting. Teen boys walked around the garden joking about the word rape. Rowdy men laughing and hopping about (serious, it was a site to see) after perhaps a long day at work. Photographers took pictures of various couples.

The hopping men were just beyond those trees. 

I rarely just sit in a park in the city.

I sit on mountains, rocks, and high country lakes, but not park benches in the noisy city.

But when I do, it proves memorable.

One such memory is when I lived in Chicago. 
I sat on a bench reading in what our college had fondly dubbed "Makeout Park." 
(We weren't allowed to kiss on campus....you can figure it out.) 

There I sat when all of the sudden a cop car rolled up on the sidewalk right beside me! He got out and proceeded to go through a homeless man's belongings and arrest him. This small town gal was so nervous I just KNEW I'd be guilty by proximity so I FROZE.  

I didn't even move my head. Just my eyes to get a load of what was going on! They arrested him, put him in their car and rolled off the sidewalk. 

I looked around was fairly certain out of ALL the people sitting on park benches, I was the only person who cared about what had just happened.

That memory will forever be embedded into my memory!

The evening in the rose garden though, I was distracted for another reason. 

Distracted by people watching (and maybe a bit of watching my back as it grew dusk in the park!)  Distracted by the people hollering out of their cars. By the extremely overly prepared parents carying a baby on their back looking like they were ready to hike Everest.

I was getting annoyed actually. I wanted peace and calm and tranquility so I could just BE.

THEN it came!

"Heather, ask Me for a picture."

So I looked at the roses. I know a bit about the symbolism of roses. Which is funny because I'm much more of a wildflower gal. 

Roses are too typical. Unless they're peach or lavendar or even yellow. Those aren't as typical. In high school I did a research project on roses. Of all the things that could have stuck in my mind from school - like math, that would have been nice! - my project on roses has remained.

Remembering that, I asked, "God, will You give me a picture?"

And He did.

Tall Roses.                     Short Roses.                                        Dilapidated Roses.

Speckled Roses.

Large Roses.                                                                                   Small Roses.

Yellow, peach, ivory, red, fuschia, pink roses.

(Anyone else notice I'm sounding like Dr. Seuss?)

Crumpled roses.

Roses trying to hang on to life.

Roses perhaps too smart to bloom (or too timid?)

One lone lavender bush.

Wrinkly roses.

Burnt roses.

They are like us. Like you. Like me.

Some people love roses in their prime. As for me, I think after that evening I will forever appreciate rose gardens in the middle of fall - much beauty still to be had, while some have seen far better days, and others are still waiting to shine.