Tag Archives: rose

Corridor of Light

Burglars broke into both houses behind us over the Christmas holiday and our neighbours are now upgrading their security. They intend putting up electric fencing along our shared border. Yesterday, tree-fellers invaded the property behind us with their noisy electric saws, trimming trees and branches that would interfere with the electric fence. Part of our avocado tree had to be trimmed.

I noticed the difference this morning when I went to the gazebo in the garden for my quiet time. The corridor of light between our house and wall was bigger and brighter. A rose was back-lit and glowed like a ruby. The smooth leaves looked like polished jade.

Image by Bob Mason from Pixabay

As every photographer knows, light makes all the difference. Even normally ugly things, given enough light, grow beautiful.

But light is not only for beauty, it is also for power. Without light, plants could not photosynthesize and make food or produce oxygen. As more and more power cuts hit our country, many South Africans are investing in solar panels to create electricity. Light has energy. Light is power.

Jesus, the Light of the World, is also the power of the world. In Him all things were created. (Col1:16)

We are called to walk in the light. (1 John 1:7, Psalm 56:13, Is 2:5 and others.)

My prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Light of the World, please shine your light of beauty and power on me today and always. Amen.”

This post is part of JustJoJan.

Valentines Day

For Valentine’s Day a fund raising committee at our school organises  Valentine’s roses and other small gifts. You pay up front and they deliver the roses for you. On Monday I found such a rose in the dustbin. Somebody was making a statement. What story of unrequited love was behind it? It inspired me to write a 300 word flash fiction story. Hope you like it.

red rose

Valentine’s Rose


Mom is crying again.  Noah blocks his ears and rocks. Rock, rock, backwards and forwards. Noise. Sobs. Talking? Who is with Mom?  He stops and stands up awkwardly then lumbers to Mom’s closed bedroom door.

“O Lord, you know how much I love him, but I am so tired” he hears Mom whisper.

Noah doesn’t understand much but he likes the words. “How much I love. How much I love,” he repeats to himself.

He thinks of his red flower. He found it in a dustbin this morning when he was walking past the school with Mom. Mom always says, “Don’t take things out of the dustbin, Noah. They are dirty.”

Mom wasn’t looking. He stumbled to the dustbin and took the flower. Dirty. It didn’t look dirty. It was red and had a long stem. Red was the only colour he knew. Red. It was wrapped. Like a red sweet. On the wrapping was a red heart. He grabbed the flower. The paper crinkled. He scrunched it with glee and listened to the noise again.

Rotten banana smell came from the dustbin and bothered his nose. The flower had no smell. He stroked it. It felt comforting, like his jacket. He had rescued it from the smell.  Dirty.

“Come on Noah, walk faster,” said Mom. He lifted his jersey and stuffed the flower underneath. Scratchy jersey, crinkly paper.


Noah remembers the flower. Red. How much I love. He fetches it from the other red things arranged on the table in his room.  He walks to Mom’s door and listens.

“Lord, please just give me some sign that we’re making progress, that the new programme is working.”

Noah opens the door. “What do you need, Noah?” asks Mom.

“How much I love,” says Noah, thrusting the flower at her.