In the smell of a rose there is a softness that transcends time, place, and what we choose to call it. When you smell a rose, you know it is a rose! You can bury the rose smell in a perfume, yet the distinct nature of the flower will still stand out. You can cover a rose in a wide range of disgusting things, and the smell will still come through. The cliché from a Shakespeare play has stood the test of time; a rose by any other name is still a rose.
Over a quiet catch-up a friend reminded me that he had never trusted someone. It was an interesting observation. As I reflected on the comment, I realized that one of David’s notes was a variation on the line in a Shakespeare play – whatever we can to call it, whatever something is will always stand out, no matter what we call it. David was blunt; “The wicked are windbags, the swindlers have foul breath.” (Psalm 10.3) You can change the cover but the wicked and swindlers will always remain the same inside.
I realize that I have often ignored the reality of what I know to be true. I think bad performers will wake up, respond to the help of others, and improve. Most do not. I think windbags will hear the sound of their voice, realize how far s/he is from being relevant and useful, and change their ways. Few do.
Life offers to teach – the smart and the less so, the wise and the foolish. We can learn from yesterday. We can build on our mistakes. Compassion and mercy are alive, willing to make a difference in your life and mine.
The other reminder is that one knows a rose by its smell. It is tangibly real no matter what it looks like or what we call it. Truth and purpose can be seen and felt by others through what we do – no matter what we choose to call it. We are what we do.
I love the smell of a rose.
