I almost missed it. The rose on the diminutive plant in the foil-wrapped pot sat on a shelf in the corner of the shop. Elaborately decorated artificial Christmas trees lined the aisle, grabbing all the attention.

It couldn’t have been more than an inch across, this tiny delicate rose, but in the midst of manufactured razzle-dazzle tinsel and bauble it humbly declared integrity from its cradle of dirt. The rose was real, living, growing, opening to the winter light streaming through a dusty window.

I almost missed it. But then I didn’t.

Thank you, little rose, for sharing joy just by gathering the light from a single sunbeam as you sing your song on an out-of-the-way shelf. I see you. I hear you.

Lo, how a rose e’er blooming from tender stem has sprung.

Human strength and the weapons of man
are false hopes for victory;
they may seem mighty but they will always disappoint.

The eyes of the Lord are upon
even the weakest worshipers who love him—
those who wait in hope and expectation
for the strong, steady love of God…

As we trust, we rejoice with an uncontained joy
flowing from Yahweh!

Let your love and steadfast kindness overshadow us
continually, for we trust and we wait upon you!

(Psalm 33: 17, 18, 21, 22 The Passion Translation)