Not Roses

 I took this picture. It’s a tiny little flower, not sure what kind but I think it is a perfect “he loves me, he loves me not”. I

 

know typically we think of daisies as being “that” flower – but when I saw this little guy, and I mean little – maybe the diameter of a quarter – I was certain that daisies were the copy cat.

I have long been a fan of the daisy. I’ve used it as a personal analogy for years. (or metaphor… even after research, I’m not 100% clear)

I use the example that beautiful woman are like Roses; soft, sweet, delicate, fragrant, complex to the core, deceptively dangerous, hard to hold and stunning, even breathtaking in countless shapes and sizes.

Roses require much time, attention and care to thrive. Roses have thorns.

I However ~ am like a daisy. soft still, but hearty and able to withstand. Not so much fragrant but appealing in simplicity. I pose no danger of  flesh wounds, no intrinsic ability to draw blood. It is my joy to be surrounded by women I consider my peers – a field of daisies if you will – unlike the Rose, I do not long to be noticed for my appearance but rather prefer to be admired for the emotion I illicit  – a little peace, a little joy, a little “she loves me, she loves me not” joviality. It doesn’t take much for me to thrive.  A little sunshine maybe and a moderate quenching of minimal thirsts.

Although we all know daisy’s come in many varieties, many sizes, many colors, many cultures; while googling for images of my beloved blossom I was shocked at how many Daisy v. Roses blogs there were. Apparently, I am not an originator of this school of thought.

The fanciest of Roses must be grown with care, shaped and molded in the form of trimmings and pruning until a standard of  beauty worth their cost is achieved. Grown in bushes, cut at the peak of perfection and then contained carefully awaiting their fate. Slowly losing layers of themselves until they have completely wilted in their pristine vases.

Daisies grow wild – by the field full – everywhere, with little care.

Akin to a daisy, recognizing God as the creator, reflecting on my petals of unpretentious, unsophisticated, unadorned, undemanding, uncomplicated perfection;

I am certain that He loves me, He loves me, He loves me!

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