When my mom passed away in 2010, a friend gave me a white rose bush to plant in my mom Lucille’s honor. A couple times a year, Lucille’s roses bloom in huge beautiful full white flowers, their fragrance subtle and sweet.

The other day I was watering Lucille’s roses and noticed tiny buds. TINY RED Buds. “Wait…Lucille’s roses are white roses….Where did the red roses come from?”

An internet search yielded a practical answer. My white roses were most likely grafted onto the roots of a red rose bush. New shoots are probably coming from the root ball.

But when I saw those red buds…I knew…I knew it was deeper more meaningful than coincidence. I can simply believe the roots just gave me red roses or I can believe that my ancestors and spirit guides are supporting all the work I’ve done over the last 11 years. My mom died in June and I planted her rose bush. I started my first Shamanic class that September.

I Pondered the Symbolism

White to Red

White…the color of innocence, purity, remembrance and ascension.

Red…the color of blood and passion.

White…the wisdom of the snow-capped Mountains of Peru. Red.. The rivers that run reddish with minerals. The blood of the mother.

The Red Road of Native cultures—living connected to all that surrounds us—knowing and respecting all our relations from rocks to plants to animals to other humans. Being in right relationship with Mother Earth and Father Sky.

Tuku Yachay Neoyok, right wisdom, Tuku Munay Neoyok. Total love and compassion and Tuku Llankay Neoyok…great aligned service.

All of this was in this simple change from white to red.

Roots

Spirit connections from across the veil, the ancestral lineage. From my mom’s side that is the Bohemian farmers who immigrated to America hearing of free or low-cost farmland in Wisconsin. These were not the artsy Bohemians. No they were the serious Bohunks who could pull a plow with their teeth if needed. They were survived with hard work and a ready laugh.

A reminder of those strong steady practical people and the gifts they left me in their DNA and love. I hold ceremonies to bless and heal my ancestors. I know they had their share of hardships and heartaches in this human world. I ask that I may step out of the patterns of scarcity that they lived and to heal their wounds that lived within me.

I have done so much work on my relationship with my mother before she died and after. I was always loved but our path together wasn’t always easy.  I was privileged to be able to sit with her, pray and sing to her in last days and truly able to say to her “You did good, mom” and mean every word as I witnessed her return back to spirit.

I feel the gorgeous rich love from my mother in those red flowers emerging from those roots…reminding me to walk the red road. The right path of life, to be the embodiment of not only my own dreams but the dreams of those ancestors long ago who came to this land seeking a better life, seeking fertile earth. She, who taught me to do the right thing even when it is hard, gave me a nod.

You can call it science but I call it a  mystical outreach in a red rose of love…Thank you for the blessing, mom.  I love you!