The Wilting Rose

"How many strawberries have you picked so far, Amal?" Yasmin asked as she tried peering into her daughter's basket.

"Heyyy. That's a secret!" giggled Amal, as she quickly sought to hide the basket behind her back.

Yasmin smiled.

"Hmm, a secret is it. Only between you and papa, I assume?" Yasmin questioned.

"Yup! I will only tell Papa. Only he can count the shtrawbellies." Amal cheered. The way she said strawberries made Yasmin burst into laughter.

"Oh, Amal. You are very cute."  She ruffled her daughters silky brown hair.

"Are you trying to break Mama's heart?"

Amal grinned proudly.

Amal and her mum and had come on a day trip to the local strawberry fields. It was their favourite summer time hobby. They would walk on the same narrow path that had been formed between the two fields that were planted with stunning, ripe strawberries, all set in perfectly neat rows. From a distance, the strawberries looked like red poppies, that would occasionally dance with the wind as it blew.

"Mama, can we visit that rose garden? Amal pointed out to the pretty looking garden situated ahead.

Yasmin checked her watch. "Hmm, yes, but lets pick a few more shtrawbelllies and then we'll go."

Amal and Yasmin entered the rose garden and began to walk around slowly, taking in the absolutely beautiful smell of roses, admiring the amazing design of them, closely peering at the various shades of reds, pinks and yellows that looked so perfect, so stunning to the human eye.

"Wowww." Amal stopped in her tracks as her gaze felt upon a huge red rose that stood out amongst the rest.

"Mama, look at that one! Its so big!"

"Yes, aren't they all so gorgeous, Amal?"

"Yes, mama. I've never seen so many roses in life life. Can I have one, please?"

"We can't pick up one from this garden, honey, but we can buy a bunch to take home on our drive back. What say?"

"Yess, mama!" Amal chanted excitedly.

The same evening, Yasmin placed the bunch of roses in a antique vase she had purchased long ago from the historical city of Istanbul. It nicely complimented the spectrum of colours of the roses and perfectly matched the colours of Amal's room.

Amal smiled widely as she watched her mother place the vase on her windowsill. For days after, Amal would water her roses, observe them as they blossomed in the sunlight. She even gave them all names. Everyday she would water her favourite ones, expose them to sufficient sunlight, take care of them, and occasionally draw a sketch of them in her notepad.

One day, Amal filled the jug of water and made her way upstairs and into the room, ready to water her favourite roses. As she slowly began to fill the vase with water, and check each of her precious roses as she did so, her eye caught sight of something that made her gasp.

She blinked her eyes in to make sure what she was seeing was real, and when that was confirmed, her heart began to race. She leaped off her footstool, and ran downstairs to Yasmin who was busy in the kitchen.

"Mama, mama..." She said trying to gasp for breath.

"What's wrong, Amal?" Yasmin asked as she rushed over to her daughter.

At this point, Amal's eyes were filling with tears.

"My.. one of my roses is breaking, Mama. It's sad, it's not happy like the other roses and I don't know what to do!"

Yasmin smiled at Amal's innocence. She grabbed her hand and escorted her to room where the wilted rose sat amongst the other blossoming roses.

Amal sniffled. "That one." she exclaimed pointing the wilting rose. The rose was bent forward, its once deep shade of redness has faded into a pale pink colour.

"It' sick, Mama."

Yasmin, trying hard not to smile too much and instead sympathise with her daughter, took Amal into her embrace.

"I think its time for a story?" Yasmin said as she sat Amal down besides her.

Amal wiped her tears.

"Once upon a time, there lived a beautifully blooming rose called Warda. It lived amongst many other roses in the lush rose garden near the famous strawberry field. One day, some people came to visit the rose garden, and when they saw Warda, they stopped in their tracks, in awe of its beauty. One of the women amongst them, decided that Warda would be the perfect gift to give to someone, and a rose that would definitely brighten up somebody's day."

Amal shuffled in her seat, trying to make sense of the story.

"So, they decided to buy Warda and some other roses from the garden's owner and made a deal that they would turn the roses into a beautiful bouquet for sellers to buy. Soon after, a lovely little girl called Amal found the roses on a shelf in the flower shop. She purchased them, and displayed them in her room and took care of them. But, due to the excitement of taking care of the other big, tall, roses, Amal forgot about Warda. She wasn't being showered with much love or care anymore, and thus she began to feel sad. Slowly, as they days passed by Warda began to wilt. She was being deprived of love and care and simply wanted to be look aftered. Some days, she would feel that bit of care, other days it never reached her, she remained in the corner, hoping that the sunlight would shine down upon her.

Amal widened her eyes. "Did Warda become better, ma?"

"Aha, now this is where I want you to complete the story. What do you think Warda needs? What will make her feel better?"

"She's a wilted rose, so she feels sad and broken...and she looks like she's going to fall. Maybe she needs someone help her back up. Maybe she needs some love and care!"

"Yes, Amal. That's exactly what she needs. And that's exactly what your wilting rose needs too. She needs to be showered with more water, sunlight and nutrients so she can blossom again. Maybe you can lend her a helping hand with that. Maybe you can give her hope."

"I would love to!" Amal exclaimed as she picked up the jug again.

"See, Amal, we learn a lesson from this wilting rose too."

"Really?"

"Yes. Sometimes in life, we will begin to wilt and wither, due the life's struggles weighing down upon us or due to to sadness or heart break, but if we remember Allah in such times, He will shower us with His mercy, love and care, which will help us heal and rise back up stronger. We learn that even for the wilting rose there is hope of blossoming better than it was doing before."

Amal paused and reflected.

"That's so true, mama. I hope I can help her blossom better than she did before."

"InshaAllah." Yasmin pecked Amal's cheek.

"Feeling better now?"

"Yup!" Amal smiled. "Lots better."