- October 22, 2020
- Guest Writer
There is a single rose hanging by a broken stem outside my window. One single rose hanging on a dried bush. See how she hangs on, though tossed by the wind.
This year has been a year of thorns; death, loss, brokenness, loneliness, abandonment.
And this year has been a year of roses too. Not the pretty ones from the greenhouse. No, the sturdy ones that hang on by a thread. The ones that are a bit beaten down and broken. The rose that hangs on by a limb as if to say I’m still here...