The older priest walked up to a rose bush and handed the younger priest a rosebud and told him to open it without tearing any petals.
Noticing the younger priest's inability to unfold the rosebud without tearing it, the older priest began to recite the following poem:
The secret of unfolding flowers is not known to such as I.
GOD opens this flower so easily, but in my hands, they die.
If I can't unfold a rosebud - this flower of God's design,
So I'll trust in God for leading each moment of my day;
The path that lies before me, only my Lord knows.
I trust God to unfold the moments, just as HE unfolds the rose.