Growing along a garden gate was a beautiful bush of yellow roses. Every day was sunny and beautiful, and the rose bush blossomed.
As the days passed, she grew big and beautiful delighting in the joy she brought to the people who walked by her gate. The perfume from her yellow buds swept through the neighborhood on the afternoon breeze coaxing smiles from even those of a melancholy nature. Her spirit was optimistic and saw the positive even in a rainy day.
After a time the rose bush became too overgrown. Her limbs heavy with her beautiful buds and their delightful fragrance. But also those shrewd thorns that snag unwary fingers.
So as the afternoon began to wane, the Gardener brought out His pruning shears and began to cut away some of the growth.
The rose bush wept for her lost limbs, the beautiful buds and even those shrewd thorns. For they had been part of her.
As He worked the Gardener whispered in her ear, "Shhh, my beautiful rose bush. Be brave. For though the pain is sharp right now, one day this pain will make you stronger and more beautiful than ever."
The moon began to climb across the sky when He finished and left her in the night air with the pieces of her scattered at her feet and her heart broken. While the crickets chirped their part of the night symphony, she mourned what she had just lost feeling every missing leaf and thorn so keenly that it was hard to breathe.
When the symphony finished and dawn began to break along the horizon, the rose bush thought about what the Gardener had said and what He had promised. With the first rays of the morning sun warming what was left of her, she began to hope.