In the Rose.
But now, O LORD, You are our Father, We are the clay, and You our potter; And all of us are the work of Your hand. Isaiah 64:8 They catch my eye. In the moonlight that glows against the night sky, I see them. Through raindrops that hit the pavement gently, they turn my head. As the sun beats down its golden rays, I cannot help but stop and look. In and out of seasons, in moments of my life, both good and bad, I recognize their beauty. They steal my heart, quietly and gently, most often when I'm not looking. I love the roses that line our driveway. Sometimes a million colors are on display as they bloom right and left. Sometimes only the tiniest bud can be seen, because I am looking. Sometimes I completely forget about them, and yet they stay their growing so beautifully. I pull into the driveway, look to my right, and know I am home because of these simple and beautiful roses. There, they line the way in their deep reds, and unbelievable oranges. The soft pink, an