Father’s Day Forgiveness

A few months ago, I read a quote that said, “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.” It made me stop and think.

Recently I bought a yellow rose bush. I am working on creating a small rose garden in front of our house since we removed all the Juniper bushes.

The yellow rose bush reminds me of when my sister visited me in Texas. I had started to prepare a flower garden in front of our new home but hadn’t decided what kind of flowers I wanted to plant yet.

When she got out of the car, she was holding a rose bush with one yellow bud ready to open.

“Hey, sis, I brought you a housewarming gift, and it looks like I’m just in time!” I hugged her and asked her what she meant. She nodded toward my empty garden and said, “You can’t plant a garden in Texas without a yellow rose bush.”

“Oh no, I can’t grow Roses. They are too difficult.” So we walked over to the overturned soil, and she set the rose bush precisely in the middle. Then she said, “Don’t you remember the beautiful roses dad used to grow?”

I did. But I didn’t think of my dad very often. He had a drinking problem and a frightening temper.

After a few moments of silence, she looked deep into my thoughts and said, “Your garden is brand new. I think you should fill it with roses. And every time you plant a new rose bush, remember one good thing about our dad.”

After her visit, my husband bought another yellow rose bush. I told him he could plant them both at the beginning of our driveway, but he said he thought they would look good in my new garden.

The rose bushes stayed in the pots for a while until one day, I went outside and began digging a hole just as the pretty little yellow bud was turning into a gorgeous huge rose blossom.

As I did, I thought about my dad. I remembered his rough hands gently pruning the rose bushes and how he talked to each of his plants–telling them how they would like growing in this spot and how many people they would make happy with their incredible beauty.

It always made me laugh because his voice was deep, and it sounded so funny. He was a gardener, a builder, and a great storyteller. And he always helped people.

After that, I bought 15 more bushes and planted them in my garden, and each time I planted a new one, I remembered something I loved about my dad.

When we put our house up for sale, it was the rose garden everyone commented on first.

It didn’t change the things my dad did wrong, but remembering the good things about him helped my heart forgive him. And now, when I think and talk about my dad, I thank God for the healing power of forgiveness.

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