A newly ordained priest was walking with an older, wiser Priest in a garden one day. Feeling a bit insecure about what God had in store for him, the younger asked the older for some advice.
The older priest walked up to a rosebush and handed the younger a rosebud and told him to open it without tearing off any petals. "What does this have to do with anything" he thought to himself, still out of respect for the older man he tried but soon he realised he could not achieve what was asked of him.
Noticing the younger priests 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 easily,
But in my hands they die."
"If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
This flower of God's design,
Then how can I have the wisdom
To unfold this life of mine?"
"So I'll trust in God for leading
Each moment of my day.
I will look to God for guidance
In each step of the way."
"The path that lies before me,
Only my Good Lord knows.
I'll trust God to unfold the moments,
As He unfolds this rose."