This morning, I notice the way the rose bushes stand secure, mature, and large against the trellis. In just a few months, they’ve grown. The leaves display a certain shimmer, so I bend down to look.
Each rose leaflet wears a diamond necklace of dew. In stark contrast to those menacing thorns, the delicate dewdrops signal a glitzy little resistance.
Yes, we have thorns, but we also also have little gifts to receive this morning. Even if it tried, no thorn could scatter what God appointed for those leaves.
They stand alongside–but can never pierce–those leaves.