Reaching for the Rose
I have this odd obsession with flowers—roses in particular. They fascinate me. I read about them, plant them, nurture them, and, when they bloom, I can't help but admire their beauty. It’s a quirky passion, but there are worse things to obsess over, right?
Recently, I moved from Texas to Indianapolis, and it’s been tough. I miss home. This morning, as I woke to a frigid 42 degrees, I called my mom, longing for some comfort. Instead, she casually mentioned it was sunny and 75 back home and shared all the things I was missing. Thanks, Mom.
Later, while scrolling through old messages, I stumbled on a picture she had sent me months ago—a "Joseph's Coat" rose bush I had planted for her last Mother’s Day. It had bloomed for the first time while I was away, and I missed it. The rose was breathtaking, a kaleidoscope of colors on a single bloom. Seeing that picture reignited the homesickness I’d been suppressing. But it also made me reflect on what it really means to reach for something beautiful.
Roses are universally admired for their beauty. They’ve inspired love stories, songs, and countless metaphors. Yet, as exquisite as roses are, they come with thorns—sharp reminders of the pain hidden in beauty.
Isn’t life like that? We become so mesmerized by something beautiful—a dream, a goal, a relationship—that we forget the thorns it carries. We reach out, knowing we might get hurt, but we hope for the exception. I’ve reached for my fair share of roses over the years, and the thorns always catch me off guard. But even as I pull my hand away in pain, I find the beauty is worth the sting.
Theodore Roosevelt once said, “Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty.” That resonates deeply. Life’s most meaningful pursuits—dreams, relationships, personal growth—all come with thorns. They’re not there to deter us but to protect what’s valuable from being thoughtlessly plucked.
Too often, we reach for something beautiful without considering the cost. Then, when the first thorn pricks us, we recoil, deciding it’s not worth the pain. It’s heartbreaking to see people give up on greatness because they weren’t prepared for the challenges. But if we acknowledged the thorns ahead of time, would we still reach out? I believe we would—more cautiously, more deliberately, but with greater resolve.
The thorns don’t diminish the rose’s beauty; they make it precious. They remind us to count the cost and decide: Is this worth it? If the answer is yes, the pain becomes bearable because the prize is worth the struggle.
Looking back, if someone had told me about the pain tied to some of my decisions, would I have chosen differently? Maybe for some. But for others, I’d still chase them full speed, knowing the thorns would come. Why? Because some roses are worth every scratch.
Imagine what we could achieve if we embraced this mindset—acknowledging the pain, preparing for it, and still deciding to pursue the dream. The world might just be filled with fewer broken dreams and more fulfilled lives.
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