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The little boy struggled up a hill, through the woods his ancestors used to roam. Down a muddy old pathway he went. It seemed to take a lot of time but he still struggled, this very young child. The winds were cold indeed. It was Christmas morning. The snows of a week ago were still upon the ground. Still, he struggled on.
There was a tear in his eye as he made his way that day. In his hand was a rose. No money for a rose, he had dug it out of the trash behind the flower shop. This child was Lumbee Indain. He was a "child of the Wind." He was a "child borne to suffer poverty and have no gifts at Christmas."
But, God loved this boy. He finally made his way to the hillside with the rose in his hand, he stopped a minute to wipe the tears away. He was alone, this "Christmas morning." There, before him, stood a simple grave. The Lumbee child placed the tattered rose he had before the grave. In his mind, he uttered the words, "God, if only I could see my mother again."
In Heaven, God shed a tear. It was Christmas. How could he deny the request of such an innocent child? All of a sudden the child looked up. It was "mother!" What better gift could a child ever want to see on Christmas day? She took the rose from her grave and embraced her son saying, "God has granted me a special privilege to be here with you to see you this day."
And so, "Mother and her Lumbee child were reunited." A hundred thousand Angels of God danced in Heaven. They danced for "Mother's Rose" and the reunion God had allowed. The Mother told the child, "Whatever you say in life, think, "is this what Jesus would have you to say?" "Whatever you do in life, my son, think, "is this what Jesus would have you to do?" She then told him, "Son, I cannot stay, but you remember this day. You remember how God loved you so specially and allowed me to come from Heaven to accept this rose."
The child awakened. It was noonday now. He was there near the grave of his Mother. He felt cold again. He walked around and searched but he never found the rose.
But, suddenly, Heaven opened up to him. He peered unto the sun. All of a sudden he saw a black crow flying to the left of Heaven and a voice cried out, "I love you, Son! Follow the Crow and be with me again!"
God is real. God reveals himself to all people in his own way. God was real to the Lumbee Indains and real to this child one Christmas morning.
It is not for us to live our lives in greed and covetousness. We are here not to damn one another but to "hold hands to Salvation. "We are all of the body of Christ no matter who we are."
This child gave his Mother a rose on Christmas day. I have a rose also. That rose is God's Son. I offer my Rose to you now. All you need do is receive my rose and change your life to be helpful of others. Don't simply attest to be saved, live a "giving life" to help others in need, to help others to the Cross as well. Do not do good things simply for golden streets or mansions in Heaven. Do them for the tears and the blood of our Savior. If you miss him and love him, place a rose above your door to acknowledge the same.
I hope this story of a Christmas rose matters to you. I pray you also consider the plight of a very loving people, the Lumbee Indains. These people are long suffering and God's Chosen Tribe. Isn't it time these wonderful people are granted a measure of adoration by granting them tribal status? Please write to your congressman to allow the same. Ask that this be done. May God bless you today. Feel free to visit any page of this web site and that of my brother's website also. But don't forget the rose. Remember even those whom have passed by putting a rose upon their grave. God bless you.
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Written December, 2000 in honor of all children who have
lost a loved one and the wonderful people at Berea Baptist Church, Pembroke, North Carolina, especially to Reverand Bruce Swett, Dale and Roxanne Maynor, and to the Faith Team that came to visit during my sickness in the year 2000.
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COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS
Keith King,
December, 2000
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