31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty – Day 16

It was darkening by the time I returned from the store.
That’s happening a lot earlier these days,
and I am not pleased.
I love the sun.
I love a reasonable amount of heat.
I like long days,
with lingering sunlight,
lengthening shadows,
sunset coloring the sky for a good, long while. 

So as much as I enjoy the onset of fall-ish weather,
and as glad as I am to re-enter some
semblance of a schedule with the 
start of the school year,
there is a part of me that feels
a little bit lost,
and a slow, creeping sense of sadness
as the dark claims more and more of the day.

But in just the two minutes
that it took to drop my purse on the bed,
look for an anticipated email,
(it wasn’t there),
and rattle down the list
in my head of what needed to be done
in the next 45 minutes,
I glanced out the screen door
and saw this glorious spilling
of crimson,
lightening and brightening the 
growing gloom of too-early nightfall.

The last gasp of summer,
radiating hope 
     and light and 
          stunning, stop-me-in-my-tracks beauty.

What is it about red roses? 
Something about the depth of color,
the strong, familiar scent,
the sturdy call to pay attention?
I’m not entirely sure,
I just know I love them,
and they always stir
something joyful in my spirit. 

I like them best
when they’re on the bush,
lending their glamour to the garden,
forcing me to look,
and to look again.
It seems almost a sacrilege to cut them,
although I do it from time to time.
Even red roses need pruning,
trimming back.

And soon enough, 
this one will be trimmed, too.
But right now,
when I’m pondering
a proposal that surprised me,
wondering if this is what’s next
on God’s plate for me,
I will enjoy their vibrant cry
for my attention. 

Red is the color of hope,
I’m told.
And of life.
It is a scarlet thread that weaves
its way through scripture
and my life,
splashing passion,
crying ‘courage!’,
promising good things ahead.

Joining with Jennifer, Duane, Emily and Ann tonight:


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  1. Glenda Childers says

    “The sturdy call to pay attention” could be the title of this beautiful series.

  2. Thank you, Glenda. That’s a great title!

  3. Ah! A surprise! How lovely. Do tell when you can.

  4. You’re a funny one, Megan. You always pick the small pieces/references and go there. I love that about you. :>) Soon…(and it’s not a huge deal and it has nothing to do with writing.)

  5. I didn’t know that about the meaning of crimson. Love the way you meandered around the end of a season and the beginning of one imminent around the corner. May your hope bring fulfillment in joy. Your roses are beautiful, like your heart.

  6. Red is the color of hope. Yes. That Rahab rope of hope. I have a spindly sad teeny rosebush that I’ve neglected and today–even after some freezing temps, its popped a bloom!

  7. Yup, I love Rahab – and all the other ‘unsavories’ given the privilege of lining up before Jesus in the family tree. Love you – enjoy your bloom.

  8. Thank you, Shelly. Always nice to see you here.

  9. Hi Diana, we are at that time of year when our roses start coming out! It is definitely the red ones I am waiting to see. God bless, great pics

  10. Thanks, Tracy – the roses sort of sing the seasons to me…the glories of April, the memories of October/November. Flip the months, and you’ve got a story to match.

  11. Our red roses were suddenly springing to life in the garden a couple weeks ago. That, or they simply stood out more because everything around had died off. What a lovely profusion of color and writing here!

  12. Boy, do I know that slow, creeping sense of sadness. Chrysanthemums actually make me angry if they dare to appear before the solstice. Then, and only then, am I (reluctantly) willing to yield to summer’s end.

    That scarlet thread–clinging for all I’m worth.

  13. Thanks, Jennifer. Always grateful when you come by.

  14. Glad someone else loves summer and long days. And I know you are enduring a completely other kind of long day right now, friend. Praying for you – all of you.

  15. Yes there is a grieving in the shortening of days. But the fire in the fireplace and changes i the dinner menu and the longer hours at home with family. Your roses, these beauties are magnificent and yes they look like hope and love and promise. Your series Diane, is beautiful.

  16. Thanks so much, Elizabeth. And yes, the change in the menu, the fire in the fireplace, the blustery, rainy weather – these are good things, too. I will survive – somehow I always do. Thank you for commenting and for encouraging.

  17. Emily Wierenga says

    you and i, we are akin in this. i need color and light. and i find, if i look hard enough, God never disappoints me. bless you friend.

  18. Thanks for stopping by, emily. Always such a treat to see your name in my box.

  19. Beautiful! I love how you “stopped to smell – well, see – the roses” 🙂 And how God met you there. He’s amazing!!

  20. Thank you, Michelle. Yes, God is amazing. And so are red roses.

  21. mark and jennifer dougan says

    “Glorious spilling of crimson” and “the last gasp of summer” are my two favorite lines in there.

    Nice to meet you. I’m stopping over from Scribing the journey’s link up from last week.

    Jennifer Dougan