A rose, to me, smells like a promise. A rose smells of hope.
I remember a confusing time in university, where I was stuck making a choice which was very difficult to me at the time. I shed a lot of tears over that decision, grieving that I only had two mutually exclusive options. There wasn’t a way to reconcile what I really wanted with the options before me, so my tears were just a way of letting my dream die.
Into the middle of my sadness, a friend brought me a rose-scented candle. For some reason, reading her encouraging note and smelling that candle reminded me there was hope. It reminded me that God was unshaken and unchanged – and His promises were still true in spite of my confusion.
I received a rose from a little girl on the street last night. After my time with her, I needed a reminder of His promise. Of hope. The fragrance was timely.
A German man was sitting on the curb in front of the convenience store last night, too. He was drinking a beer and people watching. After my little friend skipped away, he moved to sit beside me and asked me what kind of hope I had for kids like her.
So, I told him. The world is a mess, but it won’t always be. God loves people, and He’s devoted to our ultimate good. Maybe His love will touch my friend and change her future. In any case, the world won’t always be this desperate. Jesus is going to make it right.
He didn’t laugh at me, just took a long drink from his bottle, and said, “You believe that.”
Yeah. I guess I do.
And I walked home through the dark streets, drinking deeply of the fragrance of my little friend’s gift.