I was reminiscing again this morning about our recent trip to our old stomping grounds. We saw a lot of places that brought back memories. As I wrote before many for me reminded me that you can never go back. But I was struck with one that has given me pause for deeper thought, standing once again at my mother’s grave.
Some of you might know, if you follow this blog, that my mother passed away when she was quite young, only sixty years old. That was in the year 1973. Standing in front of her grave for the first time since maybe 1978 a ton of broken memories flooded back. I tried and failed to hear her voice again. To see her clearly, her smile and hear her laugh. But all of it was lost. Then I noticed something that amazed me, to the left side of her headstone is a rose bush. It is puny and seems to have struggled with the brutal Upper Peninsula winters, but it is there. So why is the rose bush so amazing. You see, I planted it 44 years ago, along with one that must not have survived on the opposite side of the stone.
It was that struggling rose bush that captured my attention. As I stared at it I realized how much I could identify with it. Over those same 44 years, I too had survived the brutal winters and some bad summers of my stormy life. Like that bush I had been buried under cold snow. But while it’s was real snow, mine was the white snowy powder of cocaine and speed. While it stood under torrential downpours. I floated below gallons of booze. And while it stood in the summer sun baking. I had baked my brain with all kinds of substances. Yet here we were, all those years later, by the grace of God still standing and if not strong and vital as we could have been, we were survivors.
As I continued to look at it, I could not help but remember the young man who planted it. He was so young and full of plans. Planting his mother’s favorite flower beside her grave believing in those days, that some how she could see her youngest son and would think he was doing well. But even then, there were hints of things to come. Already a hard worker, that would never be the problem. The things that would torment him for years to come already had seeds that were beginning to sprout.
Though drinking didn’t seem to be a problem, after all it was purely social. Whenever a drink was taken many followed. And drugs were also just a social thing now and again, yet sometimes the craving was so strong. But somehow it all seemed under control. It would not be too many years down the road when that would no longer be true. And as those years passed, relationships would fail and the God who was so mysterious would disappear from his life. The brutal years of surviving were upon him.
As I was turning away from the grave, I had to wonder if that bush had gone through years when its future was in question. After all its partner on the other side of the stone did not make it. That brought to mind how many of my partners were no longer standing. Why had I and this frail rose bush survived? The only answer I had was the gracious God we serve still could use us both.
For the bush it could be as simple as God knowing one day I would return and there it would stand, resulting in my strengthening of faith and by the way, my writing this blog. Or maybe there was more to it that I will never understand until I sit with the Lord and He explains all to me. What a day that will be! As for me I know that it is my testimony which God wants me to share. And if there is no other reason I have survived that is more than enough for this deeply flawed sinner.
As I wandered away from the grave, I was drawn back one more time. I lost its location and had to ask RuthAnn to help me. Once found I stood in front of it again and said a prayer of thanksgiving. I no longer believe my mother can hear me, she is sleeping waiting on Jesus’ soon return. But I know now so much better than the young man who planted that rose bush the God I serve and wanted to praise Him.
I struggled to remember a praise from the Word of God, until Psalm 28 verse 7 was brought to mind, “The Lord is my strength and my shield, my heart trusts in him and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him.”
I stood there in the fading sunlight of a warm Upper Peninsula summer day. As I looked around that quiet grave yard at all the headstones, I knew that soon I would probably join those waiting on the Lord. The thought did not bother me, He would give me all the time I would need. I smiled upon my friend the rose bush. I prayed it would stand sentinel until the Resurrection Day. I could only imagine my mother glancing at it and smiling. But then all her attention would turn to the Savior. Yes, indeed. What a day that will be!
Blessings John
7/25/18
