The rescue

I wasn't there for this moment that was captured on a disk inside a "smart phone".
From the disk it is transported to face book and from face book to my blog.
So,
I make up my own story about a fireman and his kids.
I am wondering if they are all in the parade today?  All cleaned up, T-shirts sporting the Fire-Rescue logo, standing outside their home.
What is it they see, squatting down beside the driveway, daddy in the middle?
Is it a flower they are pulling up by the roots?
Have you ever seen the bulb of a beautiful flower?
Why all the crap?
Pain, disease, war and loss, hate and unforgiveness, cruelty and brutality, ignorance and stupidity, it is all quite ugly and dried up like the bulb, the roots appearing to be a tangled mess reaching to places you don't want them to go.
Somehow the pain, the losses, hurt and all things that are bad are needed in odd sorts of ways,
just like the dried up bulbs, the twisted roots
are needed.
When you plant them and tend them with the care of a rescue crew,
they grow into something so beautiful that you start to make up words to explain a beauty that is unexplainable.
You look up from the spot where you last kneeled and continue to pray.