Fortitude

This lone miniature rose grows in front of my house, blooming brightly pink and showing its strength off to the world.  This particular rose is a little unusual, because I'm surprised it's here at all. 

All six of my miniature rose bushes arrived last June as bushy, healthy plants with a minimum of four or five stalks each.  Five of the miniature rose bushes grew rapidly, nearly tripling in size during the summer, and bloomed profusely, well into November.  This little gal, however, had a rough time of it.

This rose bush is tucked into a corner, underneath a large holly bush and immediately next to a row of azaleas, and it's behind two of the other rose bushes.  Therefore, it doesn't receive quite as much sunlight as the other roses and was probably always destined to be smaller than the others, even in the healthiest growing conditions.

However, the biggest source of its problems was my well-meaning but inept garden "helper" -- my cattle dog/ husky mix, Tucker.  He loves to participate in everything I do in the yard, and he frequently returns alone to any area within the limits of his underground fence perimeter where I've been working, to continue his perceived tasks.  Still a puppy when I planted my roses, he was particularly hard on this little plant last year.  First, he wasn't sure that the planting was finished, so he dug out a few holes next to it, just in case I needed them.  Then, feeling exhausted with all of his efforts, he laid down on this particular plant, snapping off multiple branches and even a couple of the core stalks of the plant.  He seemed a little fascinated with this one rose bush. I found him resting next to or on this plant, a thorny branch tangled in his fur, more than once last summer.  Later in the year, when he had finally acquired some one-legged skills to do his outside business, I caught him practicing his new art directly over this specific plant. 

One would think this plant has no reason to continue to grow here.  It does not have the same sunlight advantage the other roses have.  A four-legged creature appears bent on killing it with attention.

Yet, it grows. And blooms.  And blooms more. And more! It returned this spring stronger than ever, even with just one healthy stalk. The blossoms are just as showy as those on the other plants. Its spirit is clearly undaunted. 

Looking at this stalwart little lady, I'm reminded of the people in my life who are facing incredible challenges right now.  We all have struggles -- it's just part of being alive on this planet -- but, at times, a few of us encounter circumstances that will significantly change who we are as human beings.  These people I know -- friends and family members alike -- are not backing down from their challenges; they're not shrinking into a corner and giving up.  They persevere, feeling the blows of disappointment, the darkness of grief, the isolation of heartache.  Such experiences are breaking them, changing their perspectives, their relationships, and their very futures. It's an undesired pruning, certainly, but they stand steadfast, inspiring those nearby with their character and fortitude. 

Each time I water this rose, I say a little prayer for those particular people in my life.  I pray that they will receive the strength to keep enduring, and that they, too, will soon begin to blossom brightly again.