Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Miranda Dawn, one of my white roses

I read this story at Miranda's memorial service.  In the vase, I had two white roses, and 5 pink roses.  The pink roses were for each of her family members to give to her.  We laid them on her little casket before we left the cemetery.  The white roses were symbols of this story. 


The White Rose
All the earth’s mothers were gathered together at God’s Garden of flowers, those beautiful budding spirits who would someday come to earth, were nurtured and tended in the gardens.
A loving Father spoke to the mother’s, “See the works of my hands, someday you will be the mothers of these radiant spirits.” The garden glowed with the mixture of all colors. “Choose ye!” He said.
Now in the east corner of the garden pure white roses stood as sentinels. They were not as colorful as the rest, but glowed with a kind of purity which set them apart. One by one Mothers stepped forward.
“I want the blue-eyed, curly hair one, who will grow to maturity and be a Mother in Zion.” Yet another chose a brown-eyed, brown haired boy, full of life and love who would someday be a prince in a grand country. The garden buzzed with excitement as the others chose their own special spirits, those whom they would soon welcome into the warmth and love of an earthly home.
Once again the loving Father spoke, “But who will take the white roses, the ones in the east corner of the garden? These will return to me in purity and goodness, They will not stay long in your home for I must bring them back to my garden, for they belong to me; but they will gain bodies as planned. You will miss them and long for them, but I will personally care for them.”
“No! not I” many said in unison. “I couldn’t bear to give one back so soon.”
“Nor I” said another. “We will take those who will remain and grow to maturity and live long lives.” The loving Father looked out across the multitude of Mothers with longing in his eyes for someone to step forward. Then he said “See the most pure and perfect of all the white one’s? I chose him. He will go down and be a sacrifice for all mankind, He will be scorned, mocked and crucified. He is mine own. Will not anyone choose like unto Him?” A few Mothers stepped forward. “Yes, Lord, I will.” Then another, “I as well”, and “Yes we will Lord”. Soon, all the pure white roses were taken and they rejoiced in the choir of the mothers.
The Father spoke again, “Oh blessed are you who choose the White Roses. Your pain will be a heavy cross to bear, but your joy will be exceeding beyond anything you can understand at this time.”
The white ones embraced their mothers, and so full was their purity and love that filled their souls with such endearment. Each Mother knew they could endure the task. Then the mothers of all the White Roses gathered them, as a hen gathers chicks, and the outpouring of love surrounded each mother and child, as he prepared them for their task. Each mother who bore the weight of the White Rose felt the overwhelming love for God as they all shouted

“Thy will be done!”

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