A teenage granddaughter comes downstairs for her date with this see-through blouse on and no bra.
Her grandmother just pitched a fit, telling her not to dare go out like that!
The teenager tells her “Loosen up Grams. These are modern times. You gotta let your rose buds show!” and out she goes.
The next day the teenager comes down stairs, and the grandmother is sitting there with no top on. The teenager wants to die. She explains to her grandmother that she has friends coming over and that it is just
not appropriate…..
The grandmother says, “Loosen up, Sweetie. If you can show off your rose buds, then I can display my hanging baskets.”
and here’s a perfect story to illustrate the date:
On Being a Perfect Rosebud by Mira C. Coone
Consider a rosebud. It is one of the most wondrous of God’s creations. Its color can be rich and vibrant or a delicate pastel. It is subtly fragrant and a gentle touch reveals the softness and smoothness of its petals. It holds such promise and has the potential to bloom and burst forth in glorious beauty. We nurture it gently; feed and water it, protect it from extremes of wind and temperature and wait and watch, anticipating its unfolding and the fulfillment of its mission: to bring joy and awe to the beholder of its beauty.
How we are like rosebuds! We are not finished yet. We have not fully bloomed. We have not yet attained the glory and immortality that awaits us. We have shortcomings.
Do we fault or criticize the rosebud for not being a fully blossomed rose? Do we discard it and abandon it and fail to care for or nurture it because it isn’t complete? Do we deliberately pollute its water or subject it to conditions that will damage it? Do we withhold sunlight and water from it? Of course not!
Let me nurture my own emerging self with divine light and living water. Let me see myself through the eyes of the Gardener. Let me marvel at my own unfolding beauty. Let me appreciate the good qualities I have developed thus far and nurture the gifts and talents I have been given. Let me abstain from polluting myself with things or thoughts that would harm me.
May I wait patiently for the gentle unfolding of my full potential and appreciate the journey and the process. I may not yet be a perfect rose, but I am a perfect rosebud, and God loves me exactly as I am.
Last week a dear friend of mine stopped by with her friend Judith. We had a nice visit and I gave them the “nickel tour.”
As they were leaving my staff presented them each with a presentation bouquet of half a dozen long-stem red roses, because that’s what we do whenever someone visits for the first time and I give them a tour, they cannot leave empty handed.
As they say, good deeds never go unnoticed and this was no exception. Sheila sent me the following lovely thank you note:
“Hi Heidi, Thank you so much for the delightful visit today and the generous gift of your time, as well as the beautiful flowers. With appreciation and love,” Sheila
Sometimes the greatest gift is in the “PS” and I just had to share it with you. You see I too was working on a video when Sheila and Judith stopped by (which you will hear more about in the next post) and I guess it inspired Sheila to create one for her readers. How delightful!
The real beauty in roses is the story behind them. For centuries, roses have inspired love and brought beauty to those who have received them. In fact, the rose’s rich heritage dates back thousands of years.
• People have been passionate about roses since the beginning of time. It is said that the floors of Cleopatra’s palace were carpeted with delicate rose petals, and that the wise and knowing Confucius had a 600 book library specifically on how to care for roses.
• Wherefore art thou rose? In the readings of Shakespeare, of course. He refers to roses more than 50 times throughout his writing.
• One thousand years old. That’s the age the world’s oldest living rose bush is thought to be. Today, it continues to flourish on the wall of the Hildesheim Cathedral in Germany.
• Why white roses are so special is no mystery — it’s a myth. Perhaps it started with the Romans, who believed white roses grew where the tears of Venus fell as she mourned the loss of her beloved Adonis. To read more about Roses, click here.
Her grandmother just pitched a fit, telling her not to dare go out like that!
