A Meeting of Roses

Way back in time, long before men and women walked the earth – say about 30 million years ago – there were two rose bushes. They were lush and healthy. They had rain and sun. They lived in healthy soil and had grown deep roots.

One day they spoke to each other. Now these roses didn’t have mouths or throats so they couldn’t speak like we do but they could communicate through their roots. And it was as their roots were spreading that they connected.

“Hello Rose-to-my-right!” greeted the Left rose.

“Good morning Rose-to-my-left! My apologies if my roots bumped into yours.” replied the Right rose.

“Oh not at all. I am very happy to meet you” returned the Left rose.

“How do you like this neighbourhood?” inquired Right rose.

“Well it’s just fine I think. I never thought about it before. Why do you ask?” answered Left rose.

“One of my rose hips blew close to the river and reported back to me that although the scenery is lovely, it could get very windy there.”

(Rose hips are the fruit that grow after flower dies. They become orange or red and are full of seeds. The birds carry them away, eat them and when the seeds pass through their stomachs, some settle in the soil, and grow into rose bushes too.)

The left rose being sympathetic said “How difficult for her. I am quite content here – we have shade when the sun gets too hot and shelter in the wind and rain from the tall trees. We are lucky to be here”.

“Yes I am grateful for all these things, but we are so dependent on the weather. If the sun and rain don’t return in the right order there is nothing we can do about it. We could shrivel up and die”, sighed Right rose.

“True. True.” agreed Left rose.

“Wouldn’t it be good if we grew wings and could fly to wherever the birds go? Or could run to different places like mice?” asked Right rose.

“No not really” said Left rose. “Because if we moved about we would become birds or mice, and how would the other creatures find our flowers for the nectar and pollen? How would they find rose hips?”

“Ah I never thought of that.”

“Where would the ants find seeds and dried leaves if they were not tucked in beneath our branches hiding in the soil? And how would the worms hide from birds as they scavenge around the top of the earth” Left rose continued, unable to stop herself.

“Okay. I get it now” Right rose chimed, feeling a little embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of these things before, adding “and how would our fragile leaves survive if we ran around the forest scraping against other plants?” This was to assure her neighbour that she fully understood.

“Of course – we would not survive if our leaves got damaged”, said Left rose.

Having regained her confidence in observation, Right rose added “and then there are all these different plants around us, feeding different birds and insects who might not like rose hips. It’s amazing that we all offer different gifts isn’t it?”

“Not to mention how pretty we all look together, although we roses are the most beautiful.” bragged Left rose.

“And we won’t tell anyone about that”, advised Right rose. “We’ll let it speak for itself.”

Then a little voice from a few feet back announced. “I don’t agree – I think we are just as beautiful” said the wild ginger.

“So are we” chimed the pink mountain heather.

“What about us?” asked the salmonberry.

“Oops, I think others were listening to our conversation”, said Right rose humbly.

Later that day the flowers realized that each one was unique and each one had a particular purpose, just as each child has a unique purpose and each adult a particular beauty, and together we make a blooming meadow.

Hey You! You!

Once upon a time there was a small village nestled in the country called Home.

This village was called Home because the villagers knew of no other place outside of that. Everyone there had been born there. Attended school, got married, had their own children and worked there.

They knew the names of the minister, the mayor, the plumber, the dress maker, the doctor, even the names of all the cows in the field and chickens in the barn.

They gossiped about who would marry whom and how many children they would have. 

They knew the names of everyone’s grandfather, grandmother, aunts and uncles.

So the people of the village called Home were friendly.  They were experts on everyone else’s business, willing to give advice even when it wasn’t asked for. 

And most importantly everyone was happy.  That is, until, one day a stranger came.  The stranger bought the sheep farm just beyond the edge of the village and would stroll through, followed by his sheep out to the hilly moors. At the end of the day he would stroll back home to his farm happy as you like, smiling and waving at all the other villagers, patting their dogs and children.

After a few weeks, someone noticed they had never seen him at church. After all everyone wanted to go to church on Sunday, to sing the jolly hymns and listen to the preacher. This was mainly because, after church, they all went to the local café for hot chocolate and egg sandwiches. It was THE social event of the week. They exchanged news, events and argued about the weather and how much rain could be expected in the next week.

But the stranger never came. So the people knew nothing about him, not even his name.

Later during the week someone shouted to the stranger “Hey you! You! What’s your name?” The stranger waved and carried on his way. Soon other villagers joined in. “Hey you! Who are you? Where do you come from? But the stranger simply smiled and carried on.   

This began to irritate some of the villagers. They were puzzled and disturbed.  “He is not like us” they would say. “He doesn’t belong here”.

One day an irate farmer called out “Hey you – why don’t you attend church on a Sunday? You are not welcome to stay in this village if you are not friendly.”

The stranger walked over to where the farmer stood, followed by all his sheep,  and said “I don’t want to go to church, but you are welcome, all of you, to come to my farm on Saturday morning. I will make hot chocolate and egg sandwiches and we can get to know each other.”

“Well what is your name?” asked the farmer.

“My name is Bartholomew Noklebok  Melfuddin and I know that is a  difficult name to remember so why don’t you just call me You-You like you have been.

So the following Saturday morning the whole village walked over to You-You’s place. They sang songs, told stories, drank hot chocolate and ate egg sandwiches.  They had such a good time they went every Saturday morning  and on Sunday morning they went to church as they had always done.

Eventually the strangers home became affectionately known as it the You-You Church.

What Do You Look Like Inside?

Do you ever wonder what you look like inside?

You might look like one of these people on the outside

but who can see what you look like on the inside?

 Do you feel your inside is the same as your outside 
or is it different?

Are you the same person on the inside as you are
on the outside?

When you look like this on the outside

Do you sometimes feel like this?

I know there are times when I think I am happy
because I look happy on the outside,
but on the inside I feel sad.

And if I am honest with myself, I admit

I am hiding my sadness because of fear.
I fear no-one will love me if I let my sadness show.

And I learned after many years that if I hide
what I am feeling,
this can happen…

And because I want to be loved,

then this can happen soon after

When all I want – is to look like this?

And feel like this?

And after many, many, many, many years,

it occurred to me that there is a lot going on inside me,
and probably everyone else.

There are as many insides
as there are outsides in this world.