Kiss from a Wayward Rose

My rose bush is 16 years old. It wasn’t meant to be a bush; it was meant to be a climber. Years ago, we brought it, along with a trellis arch for it to trail up; for years we attempted to coax it, but to no avail.

This rose was determined to be a bush, just a big old stubby, bushy bush. It had decided early on: I am not going to be a climber. I am going to do my own thing. It was supposed to be a climber. It was labelled a climber rose, a beautiful iceberg white, that would look stunning in the garden.

But as I sit here outside journaling and having my morning coffee all these years later and look at this bush, there are now parts of it sprouting off from the sides and attempting to climb into nowhere.

We took that trellis away years ago. Now after all these years as I contemplate this bush’s story, I see what it was originally meant to be. Part of it, deep down inside is still a climber – what it was originally meant to be. Part of it is still wanting to become what it was destined for.

What can I learn from her? Well for one thing, if you do not do what you should do when you still have the right tools available to do it, then the possibility of you being able to do something might be taken away, and you will not have anything to hold onto. You will not be able to accomplish it later. You might not be able to do what was originally intended for you. And more than that – what was actually built into you

Look, that trellis got old. We had to dispose of it. We thought this bush was not going to climb, so we never replaced it. And, to tell you the truth, we tried to kill that bush. We cut it down and hacked away at the root system, but it was just too strong. We decided to let it live and see what it would do. And we were glad that we did, and we still are glad about that. We have enjoyed its roses for 7 years since.

So now, all these years later, the old gall is deciding she wants to try climbing. What am I going to do? I am going to cut them off. Why? Because we no longer want or need a trellis for her to climb. We have reshaped our garden and it will no longer accommodate a rose climbing arch. It no longer has a role to play in our plans. The environment of the garden no longer warrants it. So, lady rose, determined to have your way, your purpose has changed. It is now, and always will be a bush (like you wanted). Your branches might run wild for a while, but you will never be a true climber now. The opportunity has passed you by. This is your life now. You are still beautiful and special, but you are what you are, and that is … a bush. Regret is a waste of today.

So, I sit here and admire your climbing ability, and marvelling that it is still within you somewhere, I never noticed it until today. Perhaps there is still hope for the future. Perhaps I will take cuttings from you, with your climbing branches, and see if you can reproduce. Then another cut from your cloth might do what you might have done. You can still be proud, perhaps your children that are a part of you might be able to carry out your original purpose, and destiny.

So once upon a time in this garden where you were planted, you made your decisions, and your overseer was kind. They tried for years, and were patient when you did your own thing, went your own way, and would not climb and go where you were supposed to. When you did not realize what was good for you, they were patient and kind, but the trellis remained bare, and their dream for you went unfulfilled. So, they took the trellis away and decided to do away with you too. They were close to destroying you. But they had mercy and decided to give you another chance to shine. They decided that maybe you would look good as just a bush after all and they honoured your wishes. Their plans changed around you, and they accommodated your wishes. You grew strong and were admired for your roses by everyone who saw them. They took photos and showed you off. But deep down inside you something remained unfulfilled. You yearned for something else, something that was missing that might have once been. Could it be?

Your overseer was glad that they did not kill you, now you are blooming again. But something has changed within you. As you have grown older, and wiser, you have realized something, you feel the need to … climb

Do not fret my darling, you are wonderful in your way, and your overseer loves you. You are stunning and everyone is charmed by you. But what once may have been will never be now. And you somehow need to accept that. Don’t be too sad. Your offspring will be given the chance that was once given to you. And…

regret is a waste of today.