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He brought the small potted plant home from the grocery store at the start of summer and when it stopped blooming on the kitchen table I did what I don’t usually do and bought some rose food and planted it in the back yard.

The green leaves turned yellow but as the roots took hold they clung to the branches and before long a bud appeared. Then another! This was pretty exciting. A third was well on its way before the heavy snow hit this week and the bush got buried beneath. My heart sunk as I hurried out the door the next morning and passed it on my way to work.

The following day I stopped to scoop the snow off and discovered the two blooms holding their color but the new little bud was gone. On the third day I poured warm water with rose food mixed in over the frozen ground and discovered the branch with the bud that had fallen off beneath the weight of the strain and stress. Even though it was broken it hardly looked in the least bit fazed.

It’s sitting on my desk now in my grandmother’s vase and is reminding me, when we’re in the in the midst of a storm and need determination, to fight like a rose.

A rose is a rose is a rose

On and on with beauty it grows

From summer to fall, through winter to spring

From here to there, more beauty will bring.

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