Be a Rose

I enjoy visiting estate homes such as Reynolda House or Biltmore Estate.  I am always intrigued by the creativity of the décor.  It is fun to imagine the grand parties of years ago.  And I especially enjoy seeing the kitchen and the servants’ quarters.  It makes me thankful for the conveniences we have.

Of course, many such tours include a visit to the gardens, always the least interesting part of a home tour to me.  I’m not much of a botanist, so hearing about the myriad varieties of lily or iris cultivated on the estate rarely holds my attention.

But I do remember one garden tour that made quite an impression on me, where I was introduced to a rare variety of violet.  As we stood in that muggy greenhouse, the man in the official-looking cargo shorts told us about the plant, its usual habitat, and other facts.  All the while, he touched the tender leaves, almost absent-mindedly while he continued to look at each of us.  But as he touched the violets, a most unusual thing happened: the blooms closed.  It was as if they were hiding, ducking for cover.  After a moment, each would reopen, until the gardener touched them again.  He invited each of us to do the same, which we eagerly did.  After a while, the blooms would close not only at our touch, but upon our approach.  It looked like they were wincing.  It turns out that this is the plant’s only defense mechanism as it grows quietly on the jungle floor.

Most of us know how that feels.  We have been bumped or bruised, on the job, by friends or family, at church. People have hurt us without even meaning to, without realizing it.  But that doesn’t make it hurt less.  And after a while, we learn to distrust people, and we forget how to stand up for ourselves.  We don’t let anyone get too close.  It’s just easier that way. 

I probably don’t strike many people as shy, but I can tell you that at one time I hid.  It was my only defense.  I became a violet.  Maybe you have, too.

But I have learned recently that I was not made to be a violet.  What I was meant to be is a rose.  A rose is beautiful, strong, and able to protect itself.  A rose stands tall and proud in the sunlight.  It has thorns to protect itself from injury – and the fact that everyone knows that roses have thorns is in itself a wonderful defense.  People automatically handle roses with care.  Yet a rose will draw people to it with its beauty and the promise of sweetness.  The first thing most people do when they see a rose is stick their nose in the middle and inhale deeply.  Hey, I’ll even stop to smell the plain commercial roses at the grocery store in hopes that they will smell like something other than a freezer case.  And each rose is unique, even if they all grow on the same bush.

That’s the way we should be.  So sure in our beauty, proud of who we are, confident in what we have to offer.  Think of the gifts you have been given, the talent or skill.  Stand tall, open up, invite people in, and know that you deserve to be handled with care.  You have a lot to share with those around you.  Don’t save it for yourself.  Don’t be a shrinking violet.  Be a rose.