Unfolding The Rose

A young, new preacher was walking with an older, more seasoned Preacher in the garden one day. Feeling a bit insecure about what God had for him to do, he was asking the older preacher for some advice. The older preacher walked up to a rose bush and handed the young preacher a rosebud and told him to open it without tearing any of the petals. The young preacher looked in disbelief at the older preacher and was trying to figure out what a rosebud could possibly have to do with his wanting to know the will of God for his life and ministry. But, because of his great respect for the older preacher, he proceeded to try and unfold the rosebud while keeping every petal intact . . . It wasn't long before he realized how impossible this was to do. Noticing the young preacher's inability to unfold the rosebud without tearing it, the older preacher began to recite the following poem:

It is only a tiny rosebud A flower of God's design; But I cannot unfold the petals With these clumsy hands of mine. The secret of unfolding flowers Is not known to such as I. GOD opens this flower so sweetly, Then, in my hands, they die. If I cannot unfold a rosebud, The flower of God's design, Then how can I have the wisdom To unfold this life of mine? So, I'll trust in Him for leading Each moment of my day. I will look to Him for His guidance Each step of the Pilgrim's way. The pathway that lies before me Only my Heavenly Father knows. I'll trust him to unfold the moments, Just as He unfolds the rose.

KEEP YOUR FORK

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and
had been given three months to live.  So as she was getting her things "in
order", she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss
certain aspects of her final wishes.

She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she
would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.

Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the young
woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.  There's one more
thing," she said excitedly.

"What' that?" came the pastor's reply.

"This is very important," the young woman continued.  "I want to be buried
with a fork in my right hand."

The pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.

"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked.

"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor.

The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from
there on out, I have always done so.  I have also, always tried to pass
along its message to those I love and those who are in need of
encouragement.  In all my years of attending church socials and potluck
dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were
being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.'
It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was
coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie.  Something
wonderful, and with substance!'  So, I just want people to see me there in
that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder "What's with
the fork?"  Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork; the best is yet
to come."

The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman
good-bye.  He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her
before her death.  But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp
of heaven than he did.  She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like
than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge.
She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw
the pretty dress she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand.
Over and over, the pastor heard the question, "What's with the fork?"  And
over and over he smiled.

During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had
with the young woman shortly before she died.  He also told them about the
fork and about what it symbolized to her.  The pastor told the people how he
could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably
would not be able to stop thinking about it either.  He was right.  So the
next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you ever so gently,
that the best is yet to come.