A Blue Rose
It was that time of the year once again when the children were on holiday for six weeks. It’s a trying time for parents especially when both are trying to hold down a job.
My wife Linda had a large family while I had no one, both my parents died young and I had no brothers or sisters, uncles, aunts or cousins. All I had was my wife and her family who came to visit us occasionally and stay for a week or so during the school holidays.
My wife’s sister Jenny was coming to stay with us for a week with her husband David and their two sons Michael and Richard.
My wife had prepared everything over the past week, washed bedding, bought in treats for the boys, extra wine and food. It seemed she had forgotten nothing to make their stay as enjoyable as possible. I liked them all, especially David as he had the same likes and dislikes as me and we got on really well together.
They were to arrive this afternoon around 2: pm, a long drive of about 400 miles or so and they would be tired and hungry when the arrived. Linda had been baking cakes and cookies for the last couple of days, made corned beef pies and pasties and a large Pavlova with sweet strawberries and tangerine segments on the top. It looked delicious and was my most favourite sweet, especially with ice cream.
Tomorrow was Sunday and as usual we would be going to church as Linda and her family were ardent church goers.
It was almost lunch time when Linda cried out in disbelief.
“I’ve forgotten paper towels, trash bags and washing up liquid” she shouted through from the kitchen. “Would you be a dear and go to the supermarket and collect them for me as it is Sunday tomorrow” she cried.
The supermarket was only a ten minute drive away so it wouldn’t take me long to do the shopping and I should be back home in plenty of time and before our visitors arrived.
I scurried around the store as quickly as possible but the place was really full of people today. I eventually gathered my list of goodies and headed for the checkout counters where there would possibly be four or five people in line there with full trolleys.
I was busy winding my way along a narrow aisle when I found it was blocked by a smartly dressed young man who appeared to be about sixteen-years-old. Although I needed to get home before 2pm I really wasn’t in that much of a hurry, so I patiently waited for the boy to realise that I was there waiting to pass him. This was when he waved his hands excitedly in the air and declared in a loud voice, “Mommy, I’m over here.”
It was obvious to me now that this young boy was mentally challenged and also a little startled as he turned and saw me standing so close to him waiting to squeeze by. His eyes widened and surprise exploded on his face as I said, “Hello son, what’s your name?”
“My name is Danny and I’m shopping with my mother,” he responded proudly.
“Wow,” I said, “that’s a cool name; I wish my name was Danny, but my name is Steve.”
“Steve, like Stevarino?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “How old are you Danny?”
“How old am I now Mommy?” he asked his mother as she slowly came over from the next aisle.
“You’re fifteen-years-old Danny; now be a good boy and let the man passed.”
I acknowledged her and continued to talk to Danny for several more minutes.
“Do you have a bicycle Danny?”
“Do I have a bicycle Mommy?”
“Yes you have a bicycle Danny.”
“Do you go to school Danny?”
“Do I go to school Mommy” he asked.
“Yes you go to school Danny?”
I watched his large brown eyes dance with excitement because he was the centre of someone’s attention. His smile was radiant and I could see the joy in his face just because I was talking to him. He then abruptly turned and headed toward the toy section.
Danny’s mom looked at me with a puzzled look on her face and then thanked me for taking the time to talk with her son.
“Most people wouldn’t even look at Danny, much less take the time to talk to him.”
“It was my pleasure I assure you” I told her. Then I said something and I have no idea where it came from.
“There are plenty of red, yellow, and pink roses in God’s Garden; however, Blue Roses are very rare and should be appreciated for their beauty and distinctiveness. You see, Danny is a Blue Rose and if someone doesn’t stop and smell that rose with their heart and touch that rose with their kindness, then they’ve missed a blessing from God.
She was silent for a second, then with a tear in her eye she asked, “Who are you?”
Without thinking I said, “Oh, I’m probably just an old dandelion, but I sure love living in God’s garden.”
She reached out, squeezed my hand and said, “God bless you!” and then I had tears in my eyes.
May I suggest, the next time you see a “BLUE ROSE”, don’t turn your head and walk off. Take the time to smile and say Hello.
Why?
Because: by the grace of God this mother or father could be you. This could be your child, grandchild, niece or nephew. What a difference a moment can mean to that person or their family.
From an old dandelion! Live simply. Love generously, care deeply, speak kindly, and leave the rest to God.
People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
If this story blesses you today please consider sharing it with others.
Life is too short and friends are too few.
Written by: Terence Forster
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