Life among the thorns

I got a call asking for a donation for the youth auction to fund a missionary trip they will be going on. Asherel cannot go because it is at the time of Matt's wedding, but every year I donate some art work. I never know if it sells. I don't want to know. If it doesn't sell, I will be depressed, and if it does sell, I might wish I had kept it. It is always a little agonizing, choosing the art to donate.  The artwork I create becomes a piece of me, almost like a child, and it is difficult to part with any of them. I fear I may never be able to draw like that again. So this year, I brought a few old favorites down from the attic and they watched me from their perch against the wall.
"So just like that, you are so willing to sever our relationship?" accused the ocean scene.
"It is not that I want to," I answered, "I  am doing a mitzvah."
"What's that?"
"I understand your confusion, since you see it so rarely from me. It is a good deed, a connection to God, with no hope of reward. You just do it because it is the right thing to do."
"You need more mitzvahs in your life," agreed the ocean scene, "But does it have to be at my expense?"
"Well what else am I going to do with you?"
"Save me for your son and future daughter in law. She seems to have good taste. I'll bet she would be thrilled to hang me on her wall. And what about your future grandchildren? Might they not want to remember when you had talent and produced beautiful things?"

So, in the end, I decided the ocean scene was correct. I instead took an old picture I had done of a rose, and let the Spirit guide my hand as I tried to create something beautiful. I knew the rose itself was somehow not enough. It was not complete.

When I finished it, I leaned it against the wall.
"Are you giving me up to the auction?" asked the rose, as it squirmed on its bed of thorns on the cross.
"Yes, I am afraid I have to. I have run out of time, and so you will have to find a new home among strangers."
"Well that is exactly where I belong!" said the rose, its perky petals blooming.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you already received my message. After all, you pulled it out of your subconscious to draw me. Now I need to go bless someone else."
I looked at the rose for a long time, and finally admitted, "The subconscious can be a deep and treacherous place. Can you tell me exactly what message I was supposed to be receiving?"
"No," said the rose, "Some things are better understood on your own."

Last night I had a dream that Asherel and I went on a bike trip. It was to be a trip where we would bike across a lovely countryside for a long time, and camp along the way. As we gathered to meet our team leader, I realized I had forgotten two things- our bikes.... and our camping supplies.  The two things I most needed for the journey, I didn't have.

Life is indeed a bed of roses....but not only roses. In the midst of that beauty and that fragrant life, there are thorns. And there is sacrifice. Without that, perhaps we miss the most important things. We may be in a good place....a beautiful place, but with no means to carry us to a better place, the best place.

As I handed the rose to the woman at the church collecting the auction donations, she smiled, "This is beautiful!"
"Thank you," I told her, "If it doesn't sell, may I have it back?"
The rose blushed. "Go in peace. You understand," she whispered.

Mark 15

 ¹ Very early in the morning, the chief priests, with the elders, the teachers of the law and the whole Sanhedrin, made their plans. So they bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate.  ² “Are you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate.
   “You have said so,” Jesus replied.
 ³ The chief priests accused him of many things. ⁴ So again Pilate asked him, “Aren’t you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of.”
 ⁵ But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed.
 ⁶ Now it was the custom at the festival to release a prisoner whom the people requested. ⁷ A man called Barabbas was in prison with the insurrectionists who had committed murder in the uprising. ⁸ The crowd came up and asked Pilate to do for them what he usually did.
 ⁹ “Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate, ¹⁰ knowing it was out of self-interest that the chief priests had handed Jesus over to him. ¹¹ But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have Pilate release Barabbas instead.
 ¹² “What shall I do, then, with the one you call the king of the Jews?” Pilate asked them.
 ¹³ “Crucify him!” they shouted.
 ¹⁴ “Why? What crime has he committed?” asked Pilate.
   But they shouted all the louder, “Crucify him!”
 ¹⁵ Wanting to satisfy the crowd, Pilate released Barabbas to them. He had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified.

Isaiah 53:4-6

 ⁴ Surely he took up our pain
   and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
   stricken by him, and afflicted.
⁵ But he was pierced for our transgressions,
   he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
   and by his wounds we are healed.