ONLY A TINY ROSEBUD

A son who was in his early twenties was walking with his father in the garden one day. Feeling a bit insecure about how his life will unfold, he was asking his father for some advice. “What am I here to do? What is the purpose of my life?” the son asked. The father walked up to a rose bush, handed his son a rosebud, and told him to open it without tearing any of the petals. The son looked in disbelief at his father and was trying to figure out what a rosebud could possibly have to do with his wanting to know the purpose of his life. But, because of his respect for his father, he proceeded to try and unfold the rosebud while keeping every petal intact. It wasn't long before he realized how impossible this was to do. Noticing his son's inability to unfold the rosebud without tearing it, the father began to recite the following poem:

It is only a tiny rosebud A flower of God's design; But I cannot unfold the petals With these clumsy hands of mine. The secret of unfolding flowers Is not known to such as I. GOD opens this flower so sweetly, Then, in my hands, they die. If I cannot unfold a rosebud, The flower of God's design, Then how can I have the wisdom To unfold this life of mine? So, I'll trust in Him for leading Each moment of my day. I will look to Him for His guidance Each step of the wanderer's way. The pathway that lies before me Only my Heavenly Father knows. I'll trust him to unfold the moments, Just as He unfolds the rose.