How Like a Rose

How like a rose she was!

Soft and pink, so kind and beautiful. A soul so soft and joy-inspiring, so fragrant, so decorative. In a world of mud and weeds and rain, how rare, how precious, how like a rose.

How like a rose her tough thorns. Fighting, without fear, for justice, for family, for love of Jesus. For Him she would risk all, she would go anywhere, chase down every soul.

How like a rose her deep roots, stemming from an unbreakable branch, she lived for her family. And she lived nobly.

How like a rose, her fragile bloom. From start to finish, a roaring and royal, encouraging shade. But too quickly shaken loose from this world. A flower too quickly gone. Its lack is like darkness where once a cheery fire, a gray and muddy stem where once brilliant color.

How like a rose! The flower is gone. But the plant remains, forever changed by the blossom that was surely, a most lovely, triumphant, rose.