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A friend’s house burned down a few years ago. In a Central California Sierra wildfire that unfortunately happens too often during our parched summers. A few cast iron pots and one or two scorched Old Country Roses china dishes survived. But nothing else.

Can’t begin to describe the burden of loss that plagues a family after losing everything, having only memories to hold onto, while walking through blackened rubble in a vacant space where home once stood.

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Over the next several weeks and months they rebuilt their lives and refurnished a new manufactured home, brought in to sit on the property they fell in love with decades prior. In time with daughters’ weddings and the birth of grandbabies, new memories were made and new photos were placed in frames around the house. Life goes on, even when all seems lost.

My friend received a welcome surprise one day when tiny shoots appeared where her rose bushes had grown before the fire. Digging around she realized the garden hose had been left on, just barely dripping, giving the one bush enough moisture to keep the roots alive. Even as flames burned every leaf and bloom and branch above ground.

What a priceless image, of the indomitable spirit of survival buried inside all living creatures, human or not. Where God created life to exist, flowing through vessels of flesh or microscopic tunnels of shrubbery, not only are we designed to survive, we are meant to bloom, to blossom with the vast resources of hidden potential planted within our minds and hearts and souls.

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Created in His image, all we say and do, everything we touch, should overflow with God’s goodness. Causing our lives to permeate Life that blooms eternal, causing other lives to want the same.

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