Illuminations on life

There is a red rose blooming in the old terra cotta pot on my patio.  Its miniature bloom is not impressive in its size but is still breathtaking in its complex unfurling of its petals.  My gaze becomes engrossed in this blossom while studying its structure.  The words to an old hymn, “In the Garden,” are being sung by the spring breeze as it passes through through the porch.  “I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses…” it sings before vanishing.  Yes, indeed.  It is a beautiful solitude with the roses as this early morning announces the coming of spring with its soft light and slighter warmer air.
My attention is drawn back to the little rose as the breeze picks up again.   The breeze croons “And He walks with me, and He talks with me, And He tells me I am His own..”  before going away to where ever breezes temporarily go.   That the hymn on the breeze is singing of a deep tenderness, of a close relationship is not in doubt nor is the structure of the rose blossom not unlike the profound feelings we have for those nearest and dearest to us.  As in a rosebud with its many layers of petals, so does a true friendship possess the same emotional depth and beauty.
“I don’t see it,” states my friend, St. Thomas, better known as Doubting Thomas, as he joins me.  No, we rarely see the wonder of a relationship such as a friendship that just is as it as is, one that nurtures our soul in a tender, spiritual way.  We only hear about and generally practice relationships that amount to little more than than a commercialized or political or even religious posture, a rote role playing only vaguely suited to us personally.  Romantic or other such socially obligatory connections are merely conventions, however we may try and convince ourselves otherwise.   It is our real friendships that move us forward in unexpected ways, that don’t demand tedious declarations or much beyond a genuine affection and mutual respect.  It is these types of relationships that have reshaped the world, far more than our familial, marital or more casual connections ever do.  The scale of a personal friendship may be small, like the miniature rose, but its fragrance and beauty is no less powerful than the full scale bush. The human history is made and destroyed by the rise and fall of friendships; for what is an allegiance except a promise of friendship?
Doubting Thomas settles on the bench near my small fountain.  He pats the seat next to him, beckoning not me but St. Peter to sit next to him.  “Tell me of friendship,” St. Peter asks quietly of me.  St. Thomas smiles serenely at his friend.  “We had much of that in our garden at Gethsemane, didn’t we?”  It is a divine mystery as to what causes two people to bind together in a voluntary way, without social roadmaps such as marriage or employment.  There is no length declared to a friendship, no special ceremony to cement what is obvious.  There is no slavery to it, nor is there sense of work if it is real.  It is an enjoyment of another that just is.  It is as pure and free as a human condition can be, considering the constraints of our unruly and often tangled emotions.  All there is a simple connection, a feeling of kinship and mutual admiration.
Which is not to say that friendship is blind.  It is a love of another human, an indulgence of the small eccentricities and quirks that make it a unique treasure in this rough and tumble world.  What truly makes a genuine friendship is not a rationalization of poor or abusive behavior or an imbalance of power of any sort.  Friendship is a love that is returned in its own special way, in equal but perhaps different measures.  Like the rose blossom, it will start as a tight bud, and as time progresses, will open into the most amazing beauty.  This process can’t be rushed nor can the bloom of the rose be prevented from fading in time, if this is its fate.  And, it will, upon occasion, have its thorns.
Most friends truly understand all of this at a soulful level and cherish the moments spent with a true friend.  We can count ourselves very blessed if a rare bloom lasts a lifetime but can still appreciate those who have, for whatever reason, transitioned away from us.  Friendship is a loving gift from the divine and stays with us spiritually even if departed from us physically.
The wind comes back again, ruffling my hair as well as that of STs. Thomas and Peter.    It is singing the rest of the hymn’s refrain to us “and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.”  There is a full moment of silence in my little patio garden.  “We certainly experienced thorns in our garden”  St. Thomas says matter of factly.  “Yes, at least three that I know of,” winces Peter, “there were still those beautiful blossoms.”  It was joyous in that garden so many years ago as it is joyous in this present one.  The loving rose of friendship is still the most quietly enduring and beautiful blossom of all.

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