My dad gave my mom 80 roses for her 80th Birthday last week. How sweet is that? My niece and my daughter had to count them because the way they were so beautifully arranged made it seem like there could not possibly be 80 roses in the vase. Well, there were and they were big and they were beautiful and they are extremely long lasting. Thinking about these roses has made me think a lot about my mom. She too is beautiful and for her barely 5' frame (so she believes...I think she's 4'11" now) she is big and she is bold. When she is in a room, people love to look at her and they admire her and they want to talk to her and hear what she has to say. Heck, she never stops making others look good or sharing God's handiwork or passing on some bit of wisdom she has acquired. She rarely sits still, constantly doing something to make herself grow or learn or to make one of her grandchildren or children grow or better themselves.
Her favorite and probably most frequented prayer is (I think) the Novena Prayer to St. Therese of Lisieux:
Saint Therese, the Little Flower, please pick me a
rose from the heavenly garden and send it to me with a message of love.
Ask God to grant me the favor I thee implore and tell Him I will love
Him each day more and more. Amen
(The prayer above, plus five
Our Father’s, five Hail Mary’s, and five Glory Be to the Father’s, must
be said on five successive days before 11 a.m. On the fifth day, when
the fifth set of prayers have been completed, offer one more set - five
Our Father’s, five Hail Mary’s, and five Glory be to the Father’s)
Invariably after saying this prayer in intercession for someone, she has received a rose, roses or the fragrance of roses to confirm her prayers were heard. So it is no wonder that the gift of roses is very special to my mom.
She certainly does not look or act 80, whatever that's suppose to be I suspect. She asks, "What am I suppose to be like at 80?" as she fills out the third entry form for another art exhibit in October or as she moves a display at the bookstore with one of her grandchildren or as she hops on the computer to check her email or drags her easel out of the car to paint at Radnor Lake. I'm pretty sure for her 80 is just like that huge vase of roses that she got from my dad. Big. Bold. Full of Life. Blooming. Hard to hold in one place. And Beautiful.
Just so ya know, I flipped the roses image about 10 times and every time I put it on this page it ends up on it's side. I guess that's another quality this vase of roses shares with my mom, she is not easily swayed once she gets her mind set so we might as well just go with it her way. Usually, all is well if not better.