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Aloe and Rose
by Carol Adams 
11/28/05
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Aloe and Rose


As Aloe and Rose swayed in their beautiful existence along the road to Golgotha, they enjoyed the sunshine of the early morn. This place was called, The Skull. A place where
executions took place. It was just outside the gates, in the country, of Jerusalem. The
countryside was beautiful. Arrayed by the touch of the Creator’s hand were masses of flowers in clumps all around the rocks, on the hills, and in the fields. Their beauty took
one’s breath away. Their aroma was enjoyed by all.

Aloe and Rose talked often as they sat on the hillside watching the scenes before them.
One particular day, there seemed to be extra activity in Jerusalem. They heard shouting
deep in the city. They wondered what was going on. It was not the kind of shouting that
seemed happy. “Why is city of Jerusalem in such an uproar?” they wondered. They had the vantage point up on the hillside. What they saw was a huge group of people gathered around one person. They were taunting and teasing him. Who was that person? What had he done to get the crowd so riled up?

There little stem of legs tried to stretch further up, but the wind gently swayed them. Then they saw the crowd moving toward their direction. Some men ran on ahead to the place called, The Skull. What were they doing up there? They ran with tools and shovels in their hands to dig holes.

Below Aloe and Rose, the masses of flowers arrayed along the road began to get a sick feeling that something cataclysmic was about to happen. Aloe and Rose felt what the others were feeling as well. What was going on? Then they caught a glimpse of something horrific…

A man was carrying his own cross bloodied, beaten and a crown of thorns embedded in his head. As he passed by the masses of flowers, they all humbly bowed before him because they knew this was their Creator. Just then He stumbled and fell into the masses of flowers, and they cushioned him. [What they didn’t realize nor did anyone notice the pressure of his fall started a chain reaction within them].

Some flowers were crushed as soldiers rushed to lift the fallen man. Others were trampled on. Some were on the fringes of the impact yet they still felt the pressure as dominos falling. All were touched in some way by the impact of this man’s fall. Some were mortally wounded. Others would never regain their stature to stand again. Yet, it was an honor to have somewhat broken his fall. As the soldiers lifted him up, some of the petals and essence were on his bloodied skin. As if in unison, the masses of flowers
began to ask, “What could they do to help out?”

These tiny flowers heard the man on the Cross ask His Father to forgive the mob for their sins. He died on the cross for all men’s sins. After his death, the crowd left and returned to Jerusalem. Their ugly deed was accomplished. There remained the faithful few who took his body down and prepared it for burial. The little masses of flowers began to feel the pressure within, and from them came this beautiful fragrance. Their fragrance covered the hillside. They were crushed. He was crushed. He was trampled on, so were they. Some flowers would never recover from the fall. Some would live, but would forever be bruised and hurt. Yet in the most crushing of scenes they still emitted an aroma that filled the air.

They began to sing in thanksgiving and from their praises came a beautiful aroma. That aroma did not go unnoticed as those that prepared His body gathered some of the flowers that had just been crushed by him to fragranced his body. The flowers gave of their essence. He gave His life, His essence, so that we might live now and for eternity. Their existence shouted His glory and meaning for their tiny lives.

Aloe and Rose, along with the rest of the countryside sang with every petal and stem and
from them the fragrance of Christ permeated all of Jerusalem.



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