Joy --a story of a man and a rose bush.

Joy

I experience joy in the beauty of a single rose

radiating vibrant color

expressing a man's love

for ME.

My father loved roses.  We had a huge bush near the sidewalk in front of the parsonage.  The First United Methodist Church of one small town had a massive Victorian lady whose duty was to shelter the various ministers and families who graced her rooms.

I loved that parsonage and have many wonderful memories of our  years there.  One of those memories is of the rose bush.  One year the bush was so overladen with roses that my dad used string and attached scissors to the bush along with a sign urging passersby to clip off a bloom to take with them.

Joy

He loved sharing anything and everything with others. He was also a romantic.  Combine the two and you get a man who always had at least one rose bush from which he would cut a single bud and put in a vase to light up my mother's face when she came to the breakfast table. 

Joy. 

My daughter commented in my recent post about my rose bushes that roses always reminds her of Papa Roy---my amazing father who exuded joy--joy in Christ--joy in being alive--joy in family and friends--- just simple Joy.

My husband promised my dad he would take good care of me.  We were privileged to be able to say good-bye to dad.  He had his "moment" with each of us.  I'm not sure what all he told my husband, but on my birthday I can count on a beautiful arrangement of flowers with several glowing roses intertwined in the bouquet.

Joy. 

Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with Joy unspeakable and full of glory.

I Peter 1:8

For more on joy, check out http://www.bridgetchumbley.com/.