Lesson from the Lingering Rose

In spite of the changing season, my yellow rose bush continues to produce lush and fragrant blooms. Yes…in December!

I expected to see them in the summer and even in the fall. But after I turned to the last page of my calendar, I couldn’t help but be amazed at it’s determination to continue blooming. Even today, with sub freezing temperatures and newly fallen snow, it blooms.

And it is lovely. I stoop to drink in it’s fragrance while listening to the hush of the newly fallen snow.

At the same time, something feels wrong. The rose represents summer at its fullness, while the snow represents winter at its best. Seeing them mingled together under the tip of my nose is stark and a bit haunting. I’m conflicted because I love both the rose and the snow. For the first time, I realize that I am seeing transition played out very slowly, and it needs to be resolved.

This rose bush seems to be crying out to me. “Have you seen me yet? I’m going to keep blooming until you really, really see me!  And when the snow melts next year, I’ll be back.”  You see, when the rose gives way to the snow, the tension is over. The transition is over. Change has occurred.

Webster defines transition this way: movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc. to another.

I’ve never really thought about transition in the context of change before. But that has now changed.  I notice these new blooms much more vividly against the backdrop of the snow and bare stems of my other plants. Perhaps this quiet transition in the season of change actually can be soothing and comforting.

What a precious contrast to the abrupt transitions I have been noticing lately.

I’ve never handled chaos well. I love doing things one at a time and really try to be present in the moment at hand. When too much comes at me, I tend to shut down. The months of November and December can be difficult for me if I’m not careful.

For example, did any of you escape being bombarded with Christmas ads before the Thanksgiving turkey was even in the oven? I know I didn’t. Long before I sat down to feast on my Thanksgiving turkey, I was inundated with ads shouting “It’s time to shop!” Really? I love sitting around the Thanksgiving table. And I love purchasing and making meaningful gifts for the people I love. But, I hate when there is no space between the two. Why do we have to rush from one to another?

Isn’t there a need for transition from Thanksgiving into Christmas? Perhaps like my snow covered yellow rose? I wonder what my heart misses when I leapfrog from one thing to the next without pausing. I think my yellow rose invites me to consider what has been  before I rush into what is to come.

So that is the theme for me as I continue to move toward Christmas Day. I want to hold tenderly what has been before I race into what is to come. So even now….I just celebrated a Christmas lunch with my co-workers at International Teams. How can I carry that with me as I move into my next thing? And the next? And the next?

I think I will keep looking at my backyard. Yes. It’s still blooming. And there are still a few unmelted flakes of snow on it. I can still practice giving thanks for the rose AND the snow.  And when it stops blooming, I’ll continue to be grateful for the lesson in lingering that my yellow rose gave me.

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