Why I Chose a Joseph's Coat Climbing Rose

Two weeks ago, our wonderful nanny came in and broke the bad news. She gave us a month's notice and told us that she had to move to Fayetteville to help her daughter, who is expecting her second. The first grandson is getting bit at daycare, and the prices are going up. It was too much for a good mother to stand by and watch her grown daughter endure.

After I recovered, I realized what an incredible gift this woman was able to give, and I rejoiced. (It took me a few minutes to recover, but I did eventually rejoice!) We have been so blessed to have two wonderful women share in caring for our son during his first two years. It has allowed me to continue my professional ministry without undue worry about his happiness, and I have grown to see how important it is for children to be loved by people other than their doting parents. "Mar-Mar" has given countless hours and attention, teaching our son some of his first words, helping him learn colors, explore the great outdoors, and, most importantly, letting him know that he can rely on the big people in his life to help him grow. How does one replace such a relationship? You can't, and that's where working mothers (and fathers) go nuts.

So, there we were, the weekend before Holy Week, signing up with online nanny services and posting our nanny job description on craigslist. As the applicants made contact, we began to breathe a bit easier, but my husband and I could not shake the sadness we felt at losing such an important part of our lives and our child's life.

The sadness, like that felt by those first disciples who followed Jesus, is a strong indicator that we have loved and been committed. When we feel sad, it is quite often the result of losing something or someone we hold precious. Holy Week is full of sadness: Jesus' last meal with his friends, his last everything, including his last breath. Just when we think we cannot tolerate one more part of this sad story, Mary meets a gardener who turns out to be Jesus. The disciples on that dusty road meet a stranger who turns out to be Jesus.

In other words, "Mar-Mar" has to leave our family now, but her love and the gifts she has given to us will never die. They live in every wonderful act of ministry she has offered and in the way she has brought out the best in all of us.

We've been trying to decide what gift to present her when she works her last day. She has admired some climbing roses in our front yard. Last year when a branch broke off, and she was able to root it, but she laughs that it will take forever for it to grow into a real rose bush with gorgeous blooms. Under her care, it will probably flourish. But just so we hope she will not forget us soon, we're sending her on with a Joseph's Coat climber (that's the name of our climbing rose with the showy orange and reddish blooms).

What else could a preacher give someone who has helped her tend to her most precious living flower?