They're my brother's roses, ones he grows in his own garden, picks and slips into the stock of milk white vases my Mama finds for him at thrift stores.
They're of the roses he offers to the widows after Sunday services, to the weary Mama of ten who wanders out of the sanctuary, a baby swinging tears on her hip, to the shy little girl clinging like a barnacle to her daddy's stiff leg. They're of the roses that he grows to give away.
My brother's single. He's away from his farm chores this week, his welding business. Drove half cross the country, clear out towards the ocean, to serve at a native Bible camp.
Some of his roses sit here in a blue mason jar on a side chair.
I watch how their petals keep falling.
Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.
~ Pedro Arrupe
All week I watch these petals fall. Isn't this the most practical, decisive thing in all the world? That everything's as easy and as glorious as simply falling in love!
I think my brother's falling.
Jesus said, "The first in importance is, 'Listen, Israel:
The Lord your God is one; so love the Lord God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence and energy.'
~Mark 12:29 MSG
Photos: my brother's roses
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