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Each day here my friends and I play a game. It can go by many different names, you've probably heard of a version - peaks and valleys, high and low or the one we play - rose, thorn, bud. I appreciate the version we play because of the three different categories. At the end of the day we ask each other, rose, thorn, bud - go. You can choose to go in any order but I like to go thorn, bud, rose. Thorn is supposed to be a point in your day that wasn't the best, acknowledging a lower point. Bud is usually an event of some sort that's approaching in the near future that you're excited about. Finally, rose is the best part of your day that you want to share and glorify with everyone. I feel that the most important part of this game is knowing that the rose always outshines the thorn. Physically on a rose, it's bigger and more beautiful. It has color, an aroma - it's tangible. Each day may not have a thorn, or it may have a lot - but there will always be a rose or a bud.
This game was so clear to me last Tuesday. Tuesday simply put, was rough. In the morning we were locked out of our apartment on our way to cycling class. Our extra key was at school, so we decided to uber. Our uber never showed up. My roommate and I then chose to walk the mile there and back to retrieve the extra key. Two hours of being homeless and sweaty we arrive back at our apartment. We live on the 16th floor, on the 13th floor our elevator broke down. We yelled for help for what seemed like 15 minutes. I also need to point out my large fear of elevators. We decide no one can hear us so we press, what we believe to be, an alarm button. Our doorman fixed the problem and we at last arrive on the 16th floor. I despise elevators and I was very upset that this one betrayed my trust. Walking into my apartment with fear born tears in my eyes I see messages in my family group chat. It's a message from my mom saying that my dad saved 2 people from a burning car just a few minutes before. I was in awe and immediately humbled. God put my life into perspective in an instant. While I was wasting time on fear of a metal box, people's lives were in actual danger. And that was just the story that I knew. There are people who don't know where their next meal is coming from, refugees fleeing their homes to find safety. Yes this sounds like a big realization to stem (<- rose pun) from being stuck in an elevator for 8 minutes, yet I couldn't help but feel immense grace.
My time in Argentina has humbled me more each and every morning. I see beauty in the smallest of instances. In our apartment for example, we don't have a coffee pot. Having a pot that brews coffee I've realized is a huge luxury and overall not a necessity by any means. This weekend we stayed at a hostel that had a huge coffee pot and I actually shed tears because I was so thankful. I believe life is best lived when the little things become the big things. When at the end of each day we have a garden instead of just a bouquet of roses.