Most of my days begin with an early morning walk. It gives me an opportunity to contemplate my morning meditation and appreciate the dawning of a new day. And also to occasionally find something that has been lost or thrown away. Some of the objects are pure trash, but others are treasures. I’ve found money, hats, even a ring. Thursday morning I discovered something that I could’ve never imagined: A dozen roses. That’s right, A DOZEN RED ROSES. They were laying between the street and the sidewalk. At first glance they were indistinguishable in the darkness just before dawn. They appeared to be a misshapen bag of some sort. As I drew near I recognized them for what they were: A dozen discarded roses.

By saying that they were discarded I’m making an assumption. But who would “lose” a dozen roses and not realize it, and go back to get them? They had to have been thrown away. After the initial delight in discovering such a find, I began wondering about the circumstances surrounding them. Who did they belong to? And why did that person get rid of them? What conclusion would you come to if you had found them?

Here’s the scenario that I imagine. They had been a gift, a peace offering if you will, given by a boyfriend or husband to his beloved in an attempt to make amends. The two former lovers had met at the West Side Tavern, located across the street, for a drink to talk about their fractured relationship. He had given her the roses as a peace offering, and she received them initially with a bit of delight. They had provided a bit of a softening of her heart. But as they talked she began to steel herself against his feeble apologies and attempts to gain her forgiveness and regain her love. After a drink, or maybe two, the conversation escalated into some type of verbal confrontation. Arguing and accusations, perhaps well-rehearsed beforehand, ensued. She stormed out and crossed the street, perhaps following a familiar path home, and flung the roses to the ground, watering them with her tears as she did.

That’s what I imagined happened. I could be all wrong. I hope I am.

But here’s what I know to be true: Roses represent love; God and man’s. A familiar Christmas hymn uses the roses as a symbol of such; “Behold, a Rose E’er Blooming”. And these roses represent what happens to humans and love. Not only do we throw God’s love away, but even more painfully we ourselves are rejected as being worthy of love, be it God’s or another’s. Each of us know what it feels like to be thrown away, kicked to the curb if you will, left laying in the street. It could be by parents, siblings or a spouse or lover. We are rendered helpless and hopeless, believing we are without value, like refuse, waiting and hoping for someone to discover us and delight in us. And it can happen! It did happen when I found those rejected roses. I delighted in them!

I immediately gathered them up, embraced them if you will, and began wondering what I’d do with them. It didn’t take me long to decide. I was only a few blocks from my friend Sue’s house. Sue is a delightful woman. She’s 72 and somewhat eccentric, by her own admission. She’s experienced her share of rejection in life. She lives alone with her two dogs and a cat, whom she loves. And she also loves flowers. In fact she planted some for me in my garden this past spring! So I went to her house and rang the doorbell. It was 6:30 a.m. She came out in her robe and to her surprise was greeted by the gift of a dozen roses. She didn’t care that I had found them—in fact she loved the story. She was so excited! She said “I’ll cut off the stems and put them in water and they should be fine”. In other words, she’d give them some TLC and restore them to life.

I’m sure you see where I’m going with this. I believe it’s obvious. So obvious that I’ll let you draw your own conclusion and apply it to your particular situation in life. Simply be assured as you do that not only does God delight in us as “rejected roses”, he also places people in our paths who are waiting to be embraced and loved.