soft pink roses

Sometimes the simplest things bring the greatest comfort.

Soft pink is a gentle color.  Tender and delicate.  To be honest, it has always been a favorite of mine.  Over time I think I outgrew it.  It was too gentle, too delicate for the harsh world I lived in.  I needed bright, bold colors to push against the angst.  Intense colors that declare life.  Loud colors.  There's nothing loud about soft pink. 

Recently, at an indoor flower show, my soul was awakened from her winter's slumber as spring sprung forth in magnificent displays of plants and gardens. Of course I wanted to bring some of it home. While looking over all the choices, I found myself attracted to the soft pink roses.  I dismissed the notion and tried to find something more bold, more vibrant for my table.  Something more my style.  But I kept going back at the array of roses, back to the soft pink ones. They caressed me with their tenderness and beauty; they reminded me of the child within who once loved soft pink things.  They were absolutely lovely. 

For years, I have held back the harshness of life with vibrancy and boldness.  I have pushed away the soft and delicate things in order to survive the sinfulness of men.  Soft pink is a color that would never describe me. But that day I was feeling free; there was something about those soft pink roses that felt so good.  Finally, I gave into to the wanting and embraced them.  My soul smiled as my heart filled with love. God is not finished with me.  I am still ever changing.

My friend and I admired the bouquet, inhaling all its glory.  I decided to speak the unspoken. In a quiet voice, I said, "Ya want to know something? These soft pink roses is really what I'm like on the inside." She looked at me in utter disbelief and said, "Really? Maybe you should let it show more often."  "Hmmmm, maybe I should."

Maybe I will.