But with the word the time will bring on summer / When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns / And be as sweet as sharp.
-Shakespeare
Today is the first of June, and the Bard’s words from All’s Well That End’s Well suit my mood. “Briers shall have leaves as well as thorns,” he says. I’m already trimming the roses outside my bedroom window.
In these hazy months of summertime, heat stirs up activity around my house in northern Alabama like bees about a hive. Most Junes and Julys for us revolve around the pool where my small brood have participated in the Huntsville Summer Swim League for the last seven years. Now as teenagers, they also coach each morning. It is great exercise, great character development, great community, and great fun. However, this summer it comes in second. This summer, just beyond the final summit of the City Meet where all neighborhood pools compete for their status the following year, our family will have its first wedding. Can it be true? Yes, my oldest son is getting married. That poignant phrase, “leaves as well as thorns,” feels accurate.
Don’t get me wrong. I am elated for the happy couple! The roses are blooming and beautiful. A sweet aroma of romance fills the atmosphere, and the future is glowing with possibilities. Assuredly, my soon-to-be daughter-in-law is the one I’ve been praying for (and the one my son has been dreaming of) since he was just a boy. They are well-matched and ready to begin life hand in hand. Yet, as I lean in to admire the tender full bloom moment of marriage just weeks away, I prick my finger.
Why must roses have thorns? There are probably many ideas surrounding that question. In my garden, the rose bush is the only surviving flower each year because of its prickly stem. You see, I have dogs. Sweet dogs, outdoor-only dogs, dogs who prefer the cool soil of the garden to the warm grass of the lawn and therefore trod upon nearly every delicate item I desire to cultivate. But not the rose bush. They battled, and the pale pink flower arose to overcome! Thorns can be good. In fact, I wish my favorite, peonies, had such an effective armor and could find a permanent home in my garden beds. Thorns protect the delicate rose.
But thorns still hurt. The famous biblical passage of the apostle Paul praying for the “thorn in his side” to be removed, comes to mind. I’m so glad we don’t know what his “thorn” was because the universal nature of the problem is sweetly relevant. Discomfort, frustration, loss, small but painful jabs are easier to relate to than visions of the third heaven. And Paul’s conclusion to the matter with God’s personal answer brings me courage:
Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (1 Corinthians 12:8, 9 ESV)
Sufficient grace. A personal theme for me having the name Hannah, meaning “full of grace.” It’s a concept I’ve been contemplating since I can remember hearing it as a child. Full of grace. I used to think it was confirmation of my calling to be a ballerina. Little did I know, it would run much deeper than that. Thank God! Grace is not learned in a ballet studio or earned by hard work. It is the limitless supply from heaven to be able to know our good God even in the midst of trouble from within and without. I want to live up to my name and be full to overflowing
.
Time leaps forward.
New roles must be learned.
Different dependencies are expected.
I will miss him.
These truths prick my soul in short, painful stabs and sting my eyes with sudden poignancy. Yet I’m still smiling, happy in realizing my time to raise him is passing away because he is healthy, strong, and sound to walk with another.
Time will bring on summer… and be as sweet as sharp. This summer I will lean into grace again. I know it will be sufficient for me. For now, let’s go to the pool.