photo source: D Sharon Pruitt
I was driving home from the grocery store, alone in the minivan. The windows were down and the stereo was cranked — because I was alone in the minivan. The sun was shining warmly; summer has arrived in San Diego. Traffic was beeping and bustling by. I waited at the stoplight, thinking of the next thing on my list. And I heard these words:
Mary picked the roses early in the morn
Mary picked the roses as the day was being born
Mary picked the roses to smell their sweet perfume
Mary picked the roses, but Jesus made them bloom
I looked about me and saw rose bushes at the side of the road, blowing in the wind. Tears welled in my eyes, in the middle of traffic on a busy, rush hour Friday afternoon.
Joseph carved a table from a piece of wood
Joseph carved a table. It was his livelihood
Joseph carved a table where kings could sit to eat
Joseph carved a table, but Jesus made the tree
I thought about the baby born in the stable, the boy confusing scholars in the temple, the One who created the heavens and the earth.
And I write songs
These songs I sing
I’d have none if not for Him
And I know whence came the tunes
Because Jesus made the roses
Jesus made the roses bloom
I thought about how all good things come from His hand and yet He lets us participate. He lets us create.
I will soon be leaving. I will soon be gone
I will soon be leaving, but I leave for you my songs
Though this life is fleeting, and time is no one’s friend
I will soon be leaving, but Jesus never ends
And my thoughts turned to Palm Sunday and what it must have felt to be Jesus’ friend during that Holy Week. And I am humbled and amazed.
And oh so very thankful.
Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion!
Shout, Daughter Jerusalem!
See, your king comes to you,
righteous and victorious,
lowly and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
He will proclaim peace to the nations.
His rule will extend from sea to sea
and from the River to the ends of the earth.