The Old Man reached out and picked up the rose that lay on the table. His eyes softened as he placed it in his big rough hand and gently caressed the petals of the red rose. As he stroked the petals, he was in awe of the softness of the rose. He marveled at that work of creation – how every petal was shaped and arranged in delicate layers and of the sweet smell that tickled his nose. The color amazed him along with every little detail. It was perfect.
This man, who saw beauty all around him said, “Feel this rose. It feels like velvet. It’s almost as soft as a baby chick.” His face became solemn and suddenly he was overwhelmed with sorrow at the thought of one who never had the privilege of holding a baby chick.
What a joy to live life and see the beauty of God’s creation. A drive through the countryside brought the Old Man to life on days when it was clear his time was coming to an end. He didn’t miss a detail as he looked across fields of grazing cattle, passed over streams, or rode by a tall stand of trees. Those sights always brought a story, maybe of his “batching days” or his time working on the Long X Ranch, playing his fiddle for harvest dances, or snapping the heads off rattlesnakes on the prairie. Thinking of all he did in his life, and everything he saw, he still was in wonder of the perfection of a rose or the softness of a baby chick.
