Leave It To A Little Moss Rose

I suspect if you’ve been listening to or reading the news reports since very early Friday morning, July 20th, you are in disbelief at the shootings which took place during a midnight viewing of the new Batman movie.

Once again such horrific mayhem visits. Almost like in the movies.

When I heard the first announcement I thought it was some kind of joke; however, my cynicism melted faster than my ice cubes in my water. Considering the weather we’ve had this summer, that’s about 30 seconds to a minute.

Others have written about this incident and the phenomenon that feeds these acts. Many have far greater knowledge than I do, so I’m not going there.

But last week, I wrote about caregiving. Generally caregiving is necessary as the result of something that changes within a person’s or persons’ live(s). Thus this incident will result in the need for many who never expected to be caregivers to step up to the plate and deal with drastic changes in their lives. Those changes may be temporary or permanent.

But everyone connected to those in that theater at that viewing will be affected–significantly. Eveyone they interact with will see the effects and also deal with them.

Really. I know this because I saw it happen to us. Catastrophe ripples outward and downward.

Really. Because some people who enter a theater to see movie will always have that memory of what happened in a movie theater in Aurora, CO. They will likely be more alert. While most of us won’t be involved in the immediate care and support of those who were victims, we will be changed because of the incident—just as the victims, their families, and their friends—maybe even their workplaces—will be.

Forever. And therein lies the greatest violence. And therein lies the major reason I feel such sorrow.

In my book, Better Than Dessert, my heroine Katy becomes a widow as the result of a bombing. Most of the book revolves around how she and her family and friends work through the changes in their lives as a result. I had to do some research for this part of my book, but the time spent was worth it. I learned as a result. This learning has helped me think beyond the horrific event at the movie theater. I could center my thoughts, prayers, and positive feelings on those who will be dealing with its aftermath.

I think I became more empathetic as a result of writing that book.

As you might suspect this wasn’t among the topics, I’d considered posting about this week. However, sometimes events compel us to change—even in the blogosphere. 🙂

As for some good news? We had not quite an inch of rain this week. It certainly won’t undo the damage done on lawns and trees, shrubs, and farmers’ crops.

A bit of cheer after our first rain.

However, it did provide just enough moisture to allow a small patch of moss rose which reseeded itself from last year’s abundance to take off and even provide a few blooms. This phenomenon occurred in a large pot on my patio. (Remember because of the landscaping and drought I didn’t plant annuals this year like I usually do—thank goodness, too.)

Of course, I had to take a photo. Those two cheery yellow blooms are my gift this week. My heart sang. So of course, I share my small bounty with you.

Have a great week.

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10 Comments on “Leave It To A Little Moss Rose”

  1. Always enjoy reading your blog, Casey, and seeing a real garden with flowers! And I completely agree with you about the Aurora shootings. All of us are affected, though we weren’t there.

  2. Casey, it is one of the times we understand … all that happens in the universe both small and large; tragic and joyful; effects each of us in ways we may never truly understand. My heart is saddened by the lives of all those who will never truly recover.

    The saddest part is that the ripples of this will reverberate throughout the heavens, angels will cry, skies will darken and our world will still for the singular act of one who took so much from so many.

    The flowers are the heaven’s way of telling you, that in all times of sadness, there is a spark of hope … cheerful … yellow and happy. It is all we have to draw strength from that which kills part of our souls );

  3. Edie Ramer Says:

    I can remember being in Arizona in April, which is the month when the cacti and many other plants in their deserts bloom. It’s more beautiful because of the paucity. That’s your moss roses. 🙂

  4. Patti,

    Life’s been very busy here so I’m just now getting back to answering blog responders. Forgive my tardiness, please.

    I’m so glad readers enjoy my blog and you are one of them. Perhaps someday we will actually encounter each other face-to-face. I have to say each time I see a horse photo or sculpture now I think of you.

    Oh, and since we had a bit of rain last night, I now have a few more blooms on that lonely moss rose.

  5. So, Casey, I don’t remember where you live? Where is this garden of yours?

  6. Florence,

    Your response is lyrical in your choice of language. You must be a writer! 😉

    Recent news suggests those ripples from the Aurora shootings are gathering strength. Good or bad–only time will tell.

    Enjoy your time away from the blogosphere. I will miss you.

  7. Patti,

    I’m in WI; you’re in CA. The Bay area, right? When we go to CA that’s where we visit as my brother lives in the area also.

    My garden is pretty defunct this year but hopefully next year will be better once the landscaping is done.

  8. Edie,

    I was fortunate to spend a week in early April in AZ during a year where the desert truly came alive with blooms of all sorts, many of which don’t bloom yearly. It was a truly magnificent view and experience and I choose to remember AZ that way.

    With last night’s rain, I have 5 more blooms brightening my day. Enjoy your company.

  9. Casey, great post! Your little moss rose represents the victims in Colorado so perfectly with their determination to survive despite horrific conditions.

    I’m glad you got some rain and hope you get more on Wed.

    I can’t wait to see you in August! Hey–that’s only a week away. 🙂

  10. Stacey,

    Today’s rain, minimal that it was, produced a few more buds. Yippee. Just like the baby born today to one of those wounded in the theater life will go on despite the actions of one man who took the lives of others.

    Can’t wait to see you either. 🙂

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