It’s time for the annual beheading of the Valentine’s Day roses. I like to spread them out and let them dry and then spray potpourri on them when they stop smelling good (still part of the “waste not, want not” generation, I suppose). I’m not sure I need a whole new batch this big, though – I have three dozen this year, and they don’t exactly disintegrate quickly once they are dried, so I have leftovers from previous years still. What is different this year is that the last several years I have waxed poetic, gotten slightly morose at one point, and possibly identified somewhat with the “dying” roses. Years back, I was heavily identifying with a dying rose bush still in the ground at my previous residence. When they all the sudden resurrected it gave me great hope! (and astonishment). Then I found out that my husband had actually uprooted them and replanted a new rosebush. That is an analogy all its own, but none-the-less you can see the picture, I trust. I used to be a little sad when the roses had to be plucked from the vine, so to speak – and some of them had begun to dry (even mold :-o!) even before they had opened up. You can imagine how one my age might identify slightly with this. Especially if one feels they have missed opportunities in life. But this year is different. I have three dozen of these babies and only a few of them seemed to start to rot on the vine, because – being busy – I had let them dry on the stem longer than I usually do. But there are opportunities in front of me at this point in life that I never saw coming. I am beginning to feel excitement about my life again – three years out from becoming an “empty nester.” I believe I see some light shining on the horizon once more. So…here’s to my newfound hope and my rekindled desire and hope to “do things” in life. For now, I am no longer feeling like a rose left to wither on the vine, unused and unfulfilled. Yay! Thank you Jesus :-).