Norma |
I used to sit out in my park-like backyard in late afternoons and crochet or read while our old dog, Benson, roamed around doing his thing. Now that it is too cold for that, we take a walk through, what I still call, “the gravel path,” although asphalt replaced the gravel long ago. We walk through the path from my street, Kingston, to Queenston and around and about. At the second home across Queenston next to the path, there is a rose bush with two beautiful red roses still blooming on the bush. The front rose became my last rose of the summer. I kept wanting to bring my camera on our walk to take a picture of the rose and give one to the people in the home, but in all the hustling I always forget the camera.
Nurse Norma |
Last Sunday on our walk, the young man who lives in that house was out in his yard. I told him how I felt about his rose and about wanting to bring my camera and always forgetting it. Benson and I started back down the gravel path for home. Halfway there, I heard a man’s voice calling, “lady, lady!” I turned around to see the young man I had just talked to about his rose. He came running up to me, and low and behold, he had what I thought was my last rose of summer in his hand. He presented the rose to me. I was so touched and taken aback, I cried the rest of the way home.
Jack & Norma |
Yesterday, on our walk—there was my rose, still in the bush where everyone could view it. He had given me the other one in the back, that no one could see, that was just like the one in the front. At first I was disappointed, but as I thought about it, giving me the rose nobody cared about because it could not be seen from the sidewalk was like giving me God in Christ Jesus. Yeshua was saying, I’m giving you myself in the gift of this rose—the rose that was hidden for you to love. The sidewalk rose, perhaps, many people will see the beauty of my love in it. Enjoy, Norma Lucia, I am with you always. Bless that young man, Lord, he picked the right rose after all.
Norma Lucia Schieb
December 2002
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