As a child, dandelions were not pesky weeds to me, but rather beautiful flowers bright as sunshine and full of cheer. Begging to be picked into a innocent bouquet enveloped by my chubby fingers. Overnight enchantment transformed them into whimsical wish makers, now a fluffy ball concealing miniature umbrellas. Standing poised, eagerly awaiting to be whisked away by my secret wishes, dancing in the wind of mingled breath and whispered hopes.
Back then, it seemed completely dreamy to have a yard brimming full of them, picking flowers until my heart’s content. These days, those dreams are more comparable to a nightmare as I assess my own flourishing field of golden weeds. Which causes me to wonder if one gentle blow of those puffy heads years ago blew my childhood wish into current reality. Thriving, they are oblivious to how painfully difficult it is for me to see them as charming or winsome any longer. Shining in all their God given identity regardless of my spoken displeasure over them.
There was a time when our boys were young that I did regain my delight with these handpicked arrangements. Captured with their enthusiasm, sparking my heart with a rekindled love for these peculiar flora. Once again, seeing through the eyes of a child, they became breathtaking. A FTD florist couldn’t hold a candle to these special deliveries of pure love and exuberance.
During their teenage years I heard them listening to a song called, “Dandelions” by the group Five Iron Frenzy; my heart warmed with its’ truth reminding me of photos I had taken of the boys when they were little.
Here are some of the lyrics:
“In a field of yellow flowers,
Underneath the sun,
Bluest eyes that spark with lightning,
Boy with shoes undone.
He is young, so full of hope,
Reveling in tiny dreams,
Filling up his arms with flowers,
Right for giving any queen.
Running to her beaming bright,
While cradling his prize.
A flickering of yellow light,
Within his mother’s eyes.
She holds them to her heart,
Keeping them where they’ll be safe,
Clasped within her very marrow,
Dandelions in a vase.
She sees love, where anyone else would see weeds.
All hope is found.
Here is everything he needs….”
Lord, search my heart,
Create in me something clean.
You see flowers in these weeds.
What a stunning picture of God’s love, seeing beauty sprouting from weeds. How comforting to have a Father that never grows tired or weary of us. He is not fickle and impatient but rather sees our full potential.
Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote:
“What’s a weed ? a plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered.”
Heavenly Father , Thank you that you see flowers in these weeds Your word says,
“Do not conform yourselves to the standards of this world, but let God transform you inwardly by a complete change of your mind. Then you will be able to know the will of God—what is good and is pleasing to him and is perfect.” * Help me to see with eyes of faith, drawing from the deep wells of your truth, confident Jesus knows me this I love…
“Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them”. A.A. Miles
It’s been said, “When you look at a dandelion you can either see a hundred weeds or a hundred wishes” .