The Greatest Lesson of all

I think that the greatest gift (or perhaps the second greatest gift because a man named JC is already THE greatest gift...) for anyone, any time of the year, through the most challenging parts of life or when beginning a new (and somewhat) scary journey is not the gift that costs the most or even stands out as the most pretty... it is a rosebud.

I don't know where she got it from or who taught it to her; I don't know why my dream was re-living this particular childhood memory or why I find the lesson in it so very profound... but I am blaming it on the Massively-Insane-large-sitting in my stomach milkshake from last night.

I love my grandmother. She has taught me how to knit, cross stitch, boil potatos without them boiling over, how to camp, the song, You are my Sunshine, bake, and follow my heart - wherever it shall lead. But more than that, she taught me a lesson about life that I dare say is the greatest lesson of all. A lesson of trust and submission, a lesson I will carry with me on this road in life, through seminary and God willing - ordained ministry of some form or another.

I was really young and we had gone camping with my grandparents. It was normally tradition to either go for a bike ride or "nature walk" at some point every day and looking back, I have a feeling that the long bike rides my grandad took us on were to leave my grandma a few moments of silence and sanity. She never came for the bike rides, but she was totally there for the walks.

She understood, I think better than anyone, my "I'm the oldest and I can do it by myself" attitude and so on one of the walks, she plucked a tiny wild rosebud off the plant as we sauntered by. Handing it to me she said, "I bet you that you can't open this flower without breaking a single petal," and the challenge was on.

Much to my childhood disappointment, my wise and all knowing grandmother was right and the more I saw defeat approaching, the harder I tried. I think I must have broken every petal at least twice before I threw it in the bush and mumbled, "I bet you that you are right."

She smiled, embraced me in a sideways sort of hug and spoke a poem that went something like this:

It is only a tiny rosebud: a flower of God's design; But I cannot unfold its petals with these clumsy hands of mine. For the secret of unfolding flowers is not known to such as I. It is GOD who opens this flower so sweetly, when in my hands it fades and will die. If I cannot unfold a rosebud, this flower of God's design, then how on earth can I think I have wisdom to unfold this life of mine? So, I'll trust in Him for His leading each moment of every day. I will always look to him for His guidance each step of the pilgrim way. This pathway that lies before me, only my Heavenly Father knows. So I'll trust in Him to unfold the life moments, just as He unfolds the rose.

Now that I remember it, I just need to work on the "trust" part of it. Oh Boy!!