Roses Blooming

Above the arbor by our back door an abundance of soft, pink roses hang in clusters amongst the green strands. The blue of the sky is their brilliant backdrop. Three years ago I transplanted this bush from its spot of many years, where Mrs. Edwina, whose husband built this house, had first raised it. Now the bush stretches its long arms over my head, across and down the other side.

Why should I be surprised that the roses would bloom as usual this year? They did though. God's grace is relentless, and His seasons roll ever onward, covering with pink and green the disasters of the past. He is good, always.

My counter top calendar for today reads: "I will sing aloud of thy mercy in the morning; For you have been my defense and refuge in the day of my trouble." Psalm 59:16

.....My two 'angels' had been on their way to go fishing on the Reservoir but saw my dilemma and like true Southern gentlemen, stopped to rescue the lady. Together we picked our our way around the downed wires and tree trunks, circling the house and looking for an entrance. The electricity was off so the side garage door would not budge, and a big tree blocked the front door. Another threatened the back porch door.

I will fear no evil,
For you are with me,
Strong to deliver,
Mighty to save.

We did manage to squeeze through the front door, and the men checked room to room, while I stood staring like a deer in headlights out my kitchen window. If I had not believed in the Rapture before today, I most certainly did now. Four minutes prior to a tornado ripping down our road, my Father had whisked me away and put me safe inside a concrete bank vault.

He had known what I could not have conceived of: that fourteen, tall Southern pines would soon flop themselves across our yard with dreadful, heavy thuds, leaving great clods of Yazoo clay dangling from their upturned roots. That the branches of one would pierce Peter's bedroom and closet. That some of the trees would have their tops snapped off by the tornado, and go flying helter-skelter, cracking and tumbling down on our land or neighbors' property.

I told my 'angels' how God had practically carried me over to the bank, where he put me in a vault. I told how God takes care of His children. And I told them how He gives and takes away, and blessed be His Name. "Yes, ma'am," they agreed.

"You give and take away,
You give and take away,
My heart will choose to say,
Blessed be Your glorious Name."

Before, in the middle of, and after the troubled time, roses still softly bloom. God be praised.