As a regular viewer of all things HGTV, I have noticed the increased use of roses to brighten up a room or make a space more welcoming for guests. I have used roses in my own home once or twice. I try to use other flowers besides roses when trying to “brighten” or “welcome.”
Roses are sentimental to me. I have only received roses a handful of times in my twenty-six years and they were all very special moments. My first dozen was white. I took six years of choir, 7th through 12th grade, in school. During my high school years, we put on a musical every spring that usually lasted 2 ½ to 3 hours. It was a big deal; we all felt like stars when it was over. I will never forget performing “The Lion King,” “Oliver,” or doing a chair dance to “Fever.” There are so many more I could mention, but you don’t have the time to listen…or read. On one of my last nights of my “musical career,” I went backstage to check out the deliveries. There were tables and tables lined with good luck gifts and flowers. And there it was…a big, beautiful vase of white roses with MY name on it. Cue the glorious music.
Cut to May 17, 2008. My second dozen was orange. My small, hometown church was adorned in simple decorations awaiting the marriage of a city girl and a country boy. My husband-to-be was stationed elsewhere so we wouldn’t see each other before the wedding. I was sick, deathly ill to be exact, but I was going to walk down that aisle no matter how many meds and tablespoons of cough syrup I had to swallow. Our wedding was in the evening, so I had all day to get ready. I went to the church to drop off the programs late that morning. My dad was busy in the kitchen, helping the ladies get the food ready for the wedding. When I went to give him a hug, he motioned over to a table in the corner. On this table sat the most beautiful dozen of orange roses I have ever seen. (My wedding colors were tangerine and apple green). How thoughtful! How sweet! I almost cried, but I was too drugged up to shed any tears. They were just for me on my special day from the man I loved most, my daddy.
Moving forward to May 17, 2009. My third dozen was pink. May is a crazy month for me. Camp starts in June; May consists of frantically pulling everything together you have been working on since August for staff training, orientation, camper pre-orders, and so many other things to make your head spin. It’s worth it. All of it. Well, in the midst of the craziness, our 1-year anniversary showed up on Sunday, May 17. Travis didn’t have to work on Sundays, yet, so we were going to go to dinner later that evening when I got home from camp. During the day, I kept noticing people asking me about my anniversary. People I didn’t expect to ask me about my anniversary. I grew suspicious. After eating lunch, someone asked me if anyone had told me I had something waiting for me in the office. I walked (ran) to the office to see what surprise awaited me! As soon as I opened the door, I saw them. The most beautiful dozen of pink roses, light pink with dark pink tips. My card described me as “the best wife.” Apparently, he didn’t notice all the laundry that needed to be done that day. Ha! After dinner that night, we enjoyed a defrosted piece of the top of our wedding cake. It was still delicious and I was still married to the most wonderful man in the world, or should I say the best husband.
Remember the special gifts that you have received. Remember the special people who gave them to you. Remember the roses in your own life and be confident that you are the kind of person that deserved them.