When we first moved into our house over twenty-five years ago, I planted a little rose bush by the garage. It did fairly well the first year, but I don't think it was an ideal spot because it began to fail bit by bit, year after year.
Every spring I would look it over, trying to decide if it was worth saving. I thought perhaps if I cut away the dead branches it would grow fuller. I ruthlessly pruned, and for a while it looked better. Inevitably, though, more branches would die off, and it began to look hopelessly spindly.
We had a terrible drought this past summer, the worst on record. At first I struggled to keep the rose bush, along with all the other flowers in the garden, alive, but as water restrictions deepened it was like fighting a losing battle. Every living thing in my garden looked as though it could not possibly make it through that long, hot summer.
Then the rains came - refreshing, life-giving rains. Overnight the plants put out the most vibrant blooms I had ever seen. It really was miraculous. The flower garden looked lush and colorful, with the exception of my poor, little rose bush. It was tall and scraggly with fully half of the plant nothing but dead wood. I reluctantly decided that I would have to dig it up in the spring.
To read the rest of this devotional please visit Laced With Grace. I will be there thursday.