Holy Beautiful


I want to be profound here but know that I will fall short of the mark; my words are rusty from lack of use lately.

So - brevity, perhaps?

I stepped outside this afternoon and spotted this rose in full bloom, the first of the season.

Normally this bush blooms deep, bright pink roses from early spring until Thanksgiving.  But this first rose is so markedly different that I had to step closer to make sure I was really seeing what I was seeing -

An imperfectly perfect pink rose - half light, half dark.

Wholly beautiful.

And I am reminded of life - time gone by, time yet to come, time here and now:

There is light.

There is darkness.

And all of it is is holy beautiful.