A rose by any other name would smell as sweet yaddayaddayadda

Or would it?

I studied Billy Shakes for six long years.
And on this line I would have to disagree.

You see he is having Juliet tell Romeo that a rose if it were called a FJ Cruiser would still smell as sweet. It would still be the same thing, the same flower, the same scent.

But I disagree.

There are alot of people in this world.

Some smell good.
Other stink wicked bad.
But they are all people.

But its the ones that you know are real people.
The ones who, you can look at and know they don't stink.
That any other name for them would probably be better for them, more deserving.
because they aren't a typical person.
They are special.
They are sweet.
Real.
Unordinary.
And true.


This little story is for a friend I have never met.  I still have high hopes of meeting her one day, and hopefully soon.  But until then I want her to know just how special she is. And that she deserves to be called something other than just friend. Cause she is something special:) She don't stink:)


I bought a rose plant at the end of the summer.
It was on sale for three dollars at Walmart.

I always wanted to have a rose plant, as my Grandfather had them all over his yard.  They were bold red and the ants just loved climbing on them in the mid summer heat.

the roses never seemed to mind.

I admired that about them

Ants bother me much.

So I bought this on sale rose plant. Its leaves were burnt from the sun. It was mostly stick, and thorn, and it was sitting all lonely amoungst the other bold early fall plants boasting of their potential.
Something about it was special though.

So I took it home and carefully planted it next to the chimney of our house.  It gave out a meek small, but oh so beautiful flower as soon as it was planted and I knew right then and there that if this rose decided to give its all..... That it was really going to be something.

Over the months the blooms fell off and the rose plant seemed to just be in limbo. No more blooms. Just still.

But something special was taking place beneath the ground.

Deep in the soil the rose plants roots were burrowing down. Deeper and stronger it grew underground. I couldn't actually see this event happening but knew it had occured the morning I awoke to find, that the rose plant had grown immensly overnight. Its roots doing their job, to form a solid base for what this rose was to become.  The roots knew the rose plant could grow, big, strong, and courageously.


It seemed to happen in a second.
This new growth.
This boldness.
Shooting up towards the sky and reaching evermore.
But it was leaning.
It needed support.
I gave it a wire fence to "climb," onto, which it seemed to appreciate.

Its main shoot had stregthn and courage to prove its worth, value, and importance.
Its wire fence being its "rock to lean on when it gets tired." The roses' somewhat quiet support. Unmoving, ready, waiting. Willing to help it when it needs to lean.

I admired this rose plant very much.  I look at it each morning eager to see if a flower has appeared.
It hasn't flowered yet, but each morning it reaches higher and higher towards the sky.

The rose hasn't blossomed fully yet. Not yet. But I know it can and I know it will.

I know that in the Spring when growth is abounding, and life is bursting forth, this rose is going to shine thru them all.
I know it will because of the roots it grew in the right place, and because when it gets too tired, it will always have something to support it. And the rose plant knows this as well.

So, to my friend I haven't met yet, I write this to you.  This rose plant that I see every morning reminds me of you, your story.
It gives me the reminder to burrow my roots down deep into the good soil, and if I do so, I too just might bloom.

Thank you for the inspiration you are.


 ^"Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like:  he is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it had been well built"