Six-Year Rose

Six-Year Rose

Always a sigh

With an eye to the sky.

A heart and a glance;

Holy circumstance.

Comfort I seek

That day, in a week.

Six-year rose

Not one to oppose.

One single stem,

Purposed resplend

Porch light on

Moonspun dawn.

Descend the stair

I see you there.

Illuminated

Divinely stated.

White and pure,

You found your cure.

Heaven, reachable

Peace, teachable.

Slow to unfold,

A sight to behold.

Shimmering through

A window view.

See me still

In God’s will.

Though others fade,

One bloom made 

Winter’s midflight,

But spring’s delight

A promise late hour

In a white rose flower.

Bloom eternal

Memory fertile

Six years more?

I wait on the Lord.

Coleene VanTilburg

Feb. 19, 2013 

~ 

I arose late one night last week, after Ted left the house in the wee hours. Wee hour?  Sixty minutes fills each one, twenty-four brings the sun full circle. Tick Tick, time passes, almost 6 years since my son journeyed to Heaven.  A disturbance rouses my slumber. The TV, on for no one; no one any more. The screen goes black; silent night returns.  

Stepping down the staircase, illuminated by a porch light left to shatter the darkness, the rose stem with one single bud beginning to burst,  reached up. I stopped mid stair to gaze at the flower, showing off its bloom through the slats of the blinds of my front window. Funny how every other rose bush in the garden received their yearly pruning--all 10 of them 'cept this one. No reason for me; God's timely purpose.

A Holy encounter with the God of peace.  A pure rose still at bloom despite circumstances, despite the world, despite even me.  A white rose to see in the wee hours of  dawn, each petal whispering love, opening to beauty in forever and ever. Tears slide in gratitude, for God is good and white roses are good and heaven is good and Tim...yes, he is good.