To honor Mark's birthday I plant a rose bush. I'm sentimental - if a child touches an item, I can't throw it out. So these rose bushes have to have symbolic names. The first year I chose a white rose that symbolized the peace and purity of God that I longed to experience in the aftermath of our son's death. The bush rarely bloomed that first year and I concluded it had died. But when I started to pull it out, I noticed a few green leaves. Without any pruning on my part, the bush bore two long stem white roses. When those two died, two more appeared. All summer, every day, two white roses graced that rose bush. No more, no less. A friend came over to give me a gift on July 6, the anniversary of Mark's death. I took her out to the yard to show her the rose bush and explained that I considered the two roses a sign from God - one for Mark and one for Kelly. She smiled and we talked about how God transforms what appears to be dead into a life-giving gift that can bring hope and help to others. That fall that same friend received the same kind of horrific phone call we received on July 6. Her only daughter was killed in a car accident. Chuck and I rushed home from our Florida vacation to be with the family. I walked out back to the rose garden and remembered our conversation. Instead of just two roses there were three long-stemmed perfect white roses. I gasped and concluded that God was sending a treasure in the darkness to my friend, Susan. The three white roses symbolized Mark, Kelly, and Rachel, pure, innocent and redeemed, with Jesus, like Jesus. I cut the roses and made a corsage for my broken friend. She hugged me tightly and wore the roses throughout her daughter's services. No more roses bloomed that year.

The death of a loved one creates an ever widening circle of losses. The sorrow isn't contained within that one relationship. Our sons married sisters whose mother had died when they were very young. Children who experience sudden loss before the age of 18 often do not process grief until the average age of 40. Life experiences remind them of the absence of their loved one in ways that can unexpectedly slam them into a wall. Our children learned this as they approached their weddings and welcomed their children into the world. But God sent Laura a special treasure that we believe was a wedding gift from heaven. And He used a rose bush as the conduit of His love for Laura and once more for me.

"Sweety, come out front with me. I want to show you something." Laura, our future daughter in law, followed her dad to the front of the yard. He stopped at a rose bush filled with blooms. "Laura, you know your mother planted this rose bush when you and Melanie were little. It never bloomed. But look at it. It's filled with roses. I think this is your wedding gift from Mommy." Goose bumps and tears were my response to Laura's gift. But maybe God had something for me, too, as we planned Dan's wedding without his sidekick, Mark, at his side. I rushed outside to my roses. Tears fell when I saw the glorious white roses that filled what was once a sickly bush. Could it be that these roses were another treasure in the darkness, reminding us that God was very aware of the shadow over the joy? A bouquet of her Mommy's roses graced Laura's wedding day.

As the years passed and we approached the eighth anniversary of Mark's death, I didn't expect God to send me any more rose treasures. I concluded that God only sent such treasures when the need was extreme and that year I had started to feel a little more "normal." As the Ghost of Grief is prone to do, he jumped me from behind and the days leading up to July 6 were excruciating. How long, O Lord, how long? I walked outside on that hot summer morning, trying to reconcile God's love with Mark's absence. God surprised me with a love note that reminded me He was very aware of my broken heart. Eight long stemmed white roses bloomed on this once dying bush. Eight.

Sometimes, though, we miss the treasures. Thankfully, God doesn't give up in drawing our attention to His love. Our daughter, Heidi, her husband Greg and their three children lived with us while their new house was being built. They all knew the story of my roses so on July 6 Greg expectantly checked out what was blooming. We were in the middle of a terrible drought so I knew there would be no roses this year. Greg came inside and reported, 'There's a beautiful, large red rose." I smiled and said, "It's on the City of Hope bush." But for some reason, the gift of roses had lost its appeal for me, especially since this single rose was not on my white, once dying bush. Two months later I spoke at a women's conference where I met a newly bereaved mother. She shared with me her own rose story, of how God clearly grew a specific number of large roses at just the right time to turn her heart toward him so that she would know how intimately involved He was with her. Then she said, "It wasn't until I learned that a single red rose means 'I will love you forever' and 'utmost devotion' that I recognized God's fingerprints on this gift."

Ah! Suddenly my eyes and heart saw God's gift on that hot, dry July day. In the middle of a dry season, when everything else was dying, God sent me a love note in the shape of a single large red rose. "Sharon, remember, I will love you forever. I am forever committed to loving you."

For those skeptics reading this, it's ok that you may minimize the "echoes of mercy" that God sends to broken-hearted people, treasures designed by Him. Just as lovers have a private language that no one else can understand, we have an intimate connection with our God that only speaks to our hearts. This note is for other broken people who may need to ask God to remove the scales from their eyes so they can see and receive those treasures in the darkness, designed by God to remind them of His presence and love. Such stories encourage my own heart to trust God more.

Today, on July 6, 2010, a single red rose blooms on my City of Hope rosebush this morning, a bush I added to our rose bed in honor of Mark's birthday years ago. A treasure in the darkness, sent by our Sufficient God to remind me that He is the Lord my God, the One Who calls me by name, on the anniversary of the last day we saw our son alive seventeen years ago.

A love note from my Sufficient God.

In His grip,

Sharon