roses or daisies

I'm a flowers kind of girl.
I mean that romantically and quite literally.
There is something about fresh flowers that brings me an unexplainable amount of joy, whether they're given as a gift or blooming in my own garden. I don't have a particular favorite flower, but I can say I've always loved roses.
When you picture a rose, you probably think of one of two things: its beauty or its thorns.
It's one of the most beloved flowers in the world, yet it's also one of the few that people hesitate to grab because they know it might hurt them. If you walk into a flower shop, some people immediately reach for the roses. Others avoid them altogether, choosing daisies or zinnias because they don't come with the expectation of getting pricked.
I think that's a lot like life.
The way we see things often says more about our perspective than the situation itself.
I've always chosen to see the rose before I see the thorns. One of my close friends is the exact opposite. She can't stand roses because all she notices are the thorns. Neither of us is wrong. We simply see the same flower differently.
It reminds me of the age-old question: Is the glass half full or half empty?
Every day we are given the choice to focus on what is beautiful or what is broken.
That doesn't mean pretending hard things don't exist. Roses still have thorns. Glasses still lose water. Pain is still real.

But where we choose to rest our minds matters.
Philippians 4:8 says,
"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."
To me, that verse has always been an invitation to choose my perspective. It's not ignoring reality, it's deciding what deserves the most attention.
I wasn't raised around that mindset.
My mom has always been someone who naturally sees the glass half empty. She's quick to notice what's wrong before she notices what's right. My dad, on the other hand, has always been much more laid back. He tends to trust that things will work themselves out because he believes there's a greater plan.
Somehow, I landed somewhere in the middle, but leaning toward optimism. I've always romanticized life a little. That part of me only grew stronger as my relationship with Christ became more stable. The closer I grew to Him, the more I realized that my perspective shapes my peace. And when I drift back toward worldly thinking, I notice almost immediately that my outlook changes my mood and my mood affects the people around me.
It's an understatement to say that negativity bothers me now.
You could ask my mom.
At least once a week, we'll have a conversation where she'll say something she doesn't even realize sounds negative, and I'll gently point it out. The funny thing is that she's become so much more aware of it. Most of the time, she catches herself before I even have to explain. 
As I get older, I understand her more than ever though. She was raised in a home where negativity was normal. She learned to expect disappointment before hope ever had a chance.
But over the past few months, I've realized something.
Negativity has quietly found its way into my own heart.
Somewhere along the way, I reached for a rose, got pricked by one of its thorns, and became fixated on the pain instead of the beauty.
Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Those thorns settled beneath my skin. I tried to stay positive while quietly bleeding onto people who didn't deserve it. I grew frustrated with the very people who sat beside me, patiently trying to help me remove the splinters I couldn't reach on my own.
Perspective truly changes everything.
Romans 8:6 says,
"The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace."
When I allow my flesh to govern my thoughts, I start seeing life the way the world does. I begin believing people always intend to hurt me. I convince myself that broken trust can never be restored. I question whether I deserve the blessings God wants to give me. Fear becomes louder than faith.
But when my mind is surrendered to the Spirit, I remember who God is.
My heart has been hurting lately for more reasons than I can count.
Instead of believing everything is falling apart, I'm choosing to believe God has invited me into a season He already knows I'm equipped to walk through.
Somewhere along the way, He decided I was equipped to love someone with an avoidant attachment style. Equipped to navigate multiple life changes at once. Equipped to step into new leadership roles at church while my career undergoes significant change. Equipped to let people walk away without allowing my heart to become hard.
That doesn't make any of it easy.
It simply means He trusts His strength within me more than I trust my own.
The way we view our circumstances often determines the way we heal from them.
We can choose to believe people are cruel, or we can remember that hurt people hurt people. We can choose bitterness, or we can choose prayer. We can trust that God is working all things together for His glory even in lives we don't understand.
One of my favorite verses is Romans 12:2:
"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind."
I watched a reel recently where someone said, "We were born into an 'if they wanted to, they would' generation, but I think I was made for a 'fight for it, pray over it, and surrender the timing to God' generation."
That resonated with me deeply.
I want to believe the best in people.
I want to believe God still redeems and restores because I've watched Him do it over and over again.
I want to trust the people who have hurt me and surrender the ones I can't.
I want to lean not on my own understanding but trust in the Lord with all my heart.
Because I believe that's what love looks like.
Yes, boundaries are biblical. But authentic love is where it begins.
So when life tells me to choose the daisy because the rose has thorns, I hope I continue reaching for the rose anyway.
Not carelessly.
But carefully placing my fingers between the thorns, cutting the stem anyway, knowing that something beautiful is still worth pursuing despite the risk of getting hurt.
Because there is beauty in the ashes.
And, more often than not, healing begins with a choice.
Maybe that's why I'll always be a flowers kind of girl. Not because flowers are perfect, but because they remind me that beauty and pain have always existed side by side. Every rose has thorns, every garden has weeds, and every season has storms. But none of those things take away from the beauty God created in the first place. 
I don't want to spend my life avoiding roses because I'm afraid of getting hurt. I want to spend it believing that God's goodness is greater than my fears, choosing to see what is lovely, and trusting that even when I get pricked along the way, He is faithful to heal what the thorns cannot destroy. 
Maybe that's what it means to renew our minds. To keep choosing the rose, keep choosing hope, and to keep choosing Him.
In the end, He is all that matters and His garden is beautiful. ​