Wednesday, February 10, 2010

The Rose

I first heard the story of “The Rose” nearly 15 years ago as a sermon illustration and it gripped my heart. A little research revealed it was actually written back in 1943 by an author named Sulamith Ish-Kishor, and first published in Collier’s magazine. More recently, it was shared by Max Lucado, in his book “And the Angels Were Silent” and also “A Third Serving of Chicken Soup for the Soul.” Since then, through wide circulation on the internet (where some slight variances on the story are noted), it has become a favorite for many. It remains one of mine.

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John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose.

His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond and their exchange began. Soon thereafter, he was shipped overseas for service in World War II.

During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn’t matter what she looked like.

When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York. “You'll recognize me,” she wrote, “by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel.”

So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen. I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:

A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose.

As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. “Going my way, sailor?” she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.

The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her.

This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. “I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?”

The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. “I don't know what this is about, son,” she answered, “but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should tell you that she is waiting for you in the restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test.”

It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.

“Tell me who you love,” the famous quote says, “and I will tell you who you are.” In his book, Lucado goes on to share a reminder that Maynell is not the first person to test character based on a person’s concern for the unlovely. Christ himself reminds us what we’ve done unto “the least of these,” we’ve done unto Him. “To see Jesus, see the unattractive and forgotten. The rejected people of the world wear roses. Sometimes we, like John Blanchard have to adjust our expectations. Sometimes we have to re-examine our motives. Had he turned his back on the unlovely, he would have missed the love of his life. If we turn our backs, we’ll miss even more.”


Just a little something from Judy said...

Beautiful, beautiful story! I am afraid I often miss important people because of misplaced motives on my part. This is a special reminder and inspiring. Thanks for sharing and the the lovely rose picture.

Krista said...

What a beautiful story and precious reminder to be loving and accepting of all. Thank you for sharing this. I am truly motivated to be pay more attention to the people I tend to shy away from during my average day.

Accepted and Loved,

Susan said...

Oh Tracy,

This is the MOST beautiful story! How touching.

Truly God looks at the heart, and what story to illustrate it perfectly.

Thanks so much for sharing this.

I want to thank you SO MUCH for my b-day greetings. You are so kind and have been such a great bloggy friend over the years.

I'm grateful for you!

Have a wonderful evening my friend♥

Lea said...

what a WONDERFUL story!
OHHHH TRACY, thank you for sharing this! I can't wait to read it to Myguy!

Kim... and Her Coffee said...

awwww. love this!

Beverly @ My Sew Sweet Studio said...

Tracey, that is such a beautiful story. I had not read it before and will share it.
Thanks for visiting my blog and especially for leaving me a comment.

Yolanda said...

Happy Valentine's Day sweet Tracy and may we never forget of the Love of Our Father. Lovingly, Yolanda