My yellow roses are blooming this week. I love these flowers.
...Not because they're my favorite flower. They're actually kind of a pain to care for (just like my mom told me they would be).
But I love what they represent. Lately, I smell them in bloom whenever walk past them, and the smell instantly takes me back to being a kid, visiting my grandma. During the summer these fragrant blooms covered entire north side of my grandma's front porch, and I'd pick them just to keep the smell with me. All these many years later, that smell and the sight of my wild yellow roses is an instant trip down memory lane.
And I am proud to say the bushes in my front yard actually originated from my grandma's own wild yellow roses. My mom got her starts from my grandma, and several years ago when we bought this house I got my starts from my mom.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this. These kinds of connections to family are more than a trip down memory lane. They're permanent and lasting, and for me, my own wild yellow roses represent those connections.
I love this quote: "Every human being who comes to this earth is the product of generations of parents. We have a natural desire to connect with our ancestors. This desire dwells in our heart, regardless of age." (Russell M. Nelson, "Generations Linked in Love")
What a great truth. As a mother to children who are adopted, I know the desire to remain connected to roots does dwell in the hearts of these very young human beings, and when I see other adoptive families struggle against those feelings, I want to say, "Do you know you're struggling against the very forces of nature?"
These connections are real.
As real as a whiff of the scent of a flower blooming in my front yard.
As real as desire to reach out across days and miles to family members who are far away...
...And across generations of eternity to ancestors I haven't met, but love because my life is the product of those generations.
Thank goodness for roots.
And connections.
And God, who gave us both.
1 comment:
Mary, this post was perfect for me. While I am so grateful for the flowers that my husband and I are creating in our own family, I understand this longing for roots which bind me and my children to the generations before. There is a longing, which unfortunately may never be completely filled because of the effects of abuse. (Wow! did I just throw that into the web-o-sphere?!)
Anyway, thank you for putting words to my longing.
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