The White Rose

A few years ago, for my oldest daughter's first dance recital, I started a tradition that would be passed down through all of my daughters. A tradition that I hope makes them feel loved, valued, and gives them the confidence that they will always have a dad that will support and protect them.

Let me start off by saying that I hate buying flowers. They are expensive and die within days. Maybe I'm not the romantic type in that department, but the joy expressed by the person receiving my already dying flowers doesn't outweigh my hate of "flowers as a gift" being a thing. Harsh? Maybe. Truth? Absolutely! I know most men are secretly in agreement with me on this, but if they say so publicly they will have to buy these colorful little plants to put on life support on their kitchen table to show everyone who sees them how much they truly love their significant other.

Anywho...back to our tradition. A few years back my oldest daughter took a dance class. It was a great place for her to spend time with friends and get rid of some energy. It was also an activity which had a culminating event called...a recital. A recital where all the little girls would be given flowers at the end to make them feel even more like the little princesses they were already embodying. So as to not crush my daughter's spirit, I would be forced to buy flowers!

This gave birth to our special tradition. If I was to buy flowers, then they would have to contain something more than temporary beauty. They would need some sort of meaning behind them that would make my daughter feel special when she saw a certain type of flower throughout her life. Specifically a white rose.

The day of her recital I went to the store and bought a dozen red roses. I asked the lady behind the counter if she could take a white rose and stick it right in the middle of the red roses. At the end of the recital, I got down on my knee to congratulate my daughter for her hard work throughout the dance season, and her performance in the recital. I then presented her the flowers and told her that these were special flowers. I showed her how in this beautiful bouquet of red roses there was one special rose...a white rose. I explained to her that as she goes through life she will be surrounded by other beautiful and talented people. Just as she was on the stage that day. But in the midst of the beauty - in the midst of the red roses - she will be my white rose. She is the one that my eye will be drawn to. In the midst of everyone else she will be the one that stands out and demands my attention. She is the one I am called to love and protect so that she is able to embrace her unique beauty and value she has to offer this world. She will always be my white rose.

Today I am honored to carry on this tradition with my youngest daughter. The other girls may have already told her what to expect, but I can guarantee that the flowers will still produce a smile that will kill off any of my hate towards purchasing flowers. A smile that will cause me as a father to recommit to caring out the meaning of the white rose.