Skip to main content

Lesson from a Weed~

If dandelions could talk, here’s what I think they might say:

 "Bloom where you’re planted, sink your roots deep. Smile in the sun, soak up the rain, and let the wind take you to new places."





Dandelions are an early spring food for bees. They are often the first flower a young child picks for his mother and they provide a sweet moment for a mother to teach her child to make a wish and blow away the seeds. They speckle landscapes with lemon-colored glory.

Common, and often disliked by those in favor of perfect lawns, we trample over them with hardly a thought. All this crossed my mind as I stood in this field of dandelions, most having gone to seed.

I had an hour to myself at a retreat at a beautiful family farm on this day of unexpected sunshine and warmth. I was looking for a moment of stillness.  


I’d watched two swans,

 visited the alpacas, 



chatted with the chickens,



tried to coax a kitty closer...



...but I wanted to settle into peace and quiet. 


I spread my sweater on the grass and plopped down on my belly so that the dandelions were at eye level. I felt drawn back to childhood when lying on the grass doing nothing was not considered a waste of time.


I looked at the dandelions, really looked, really SAW them, for perhaps the first time in my life. They were in all stages from blooming to dispensing seed. And in them, I saw God’s magnificent care and perfect plan carried out in this lowliest of weeds.






The yellow flowers were low, hugging the ground—perfect for bees, which could forage for pollen beneath the wind. 









As the yellow flowers aged and folded up to begin their job of producing seed, the stems of the dandelion began to grow taller.



















By the time the seed head was in full “lollypop” mode, the stems reached well above the ground. It was there that the puffs of wind, even the gentlest breeze, could reach them and lift the seeds, each on the lightest bit of fluff, to float to new spots and begin plants of their own. 


Had they not grown tall the wind would not have dispensed the seed far enough from the mother plants, creating competition for space in the soil.

















I'm sure this is in science books somewhere, or easily Googled, but how nice to just discover it on my own because I took time to be still...
****** 


Some lessons I learned from this small observation:
  •  All creation points to God and shows his detailed plan for each living thing right down to the commonest of weeds.
  • God cares and provides for all creation to ensure continued and abundant life in future generations.
  • Each stage of life, from birth to death, has purpose and value. Never assume you have less value in old age than in youth. 
  •  There is a planned purpose for all living things.
  • Also, if you're over 60 and you've plopped down on your belly, getting back up on your feet won't be as easy as it was in childhood! 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

For Alice~ She's home!!!!!!!

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson Sometimes it's all about knowing that loved ones and friends stand behind you, knowing that support is there on the down days, the worry days, the days when you feel off-center, out of sync, bedraggled emotionally, and in pain, but knowing all the while that you're not alone. You're not alone... Alice is an online friend--she lives in Hawaii-- who belongs to the writer's workshop that I do. We've only "met" online, but those who have online friendships know that they can be just as strong as those in-person relationships. Alice was hit by a car while walking, and is in the rehab phase of things. She's working to regain mobility after a broken pelvis, a broken arm, and a broken nose. It's scary to realize how, in the blink of an eye, life can lurch and our plans for a time are displaced by survival and healing. We...

This retirement thing~

This retirement thing . . . it seems like it should be so easy, so effortless, so thrilling, to stop the daily grind. It is thrilling; at least I think it will be come September when I'm not following the school buses to work. But it's not easy. I had a plan book on my desk for 35 years, one I filled in weekly, scheduling new lessons at 45-minute intervals, meetings, parent conferences, and field trips. I knew what needed to be done and when. I got up at the same time everyday (5:45 a.m.), ate lunch at the same time (12:06 p.m.) and watched the kids pack their bags for home everyday at 2:15 p.m. I'm not sorry to give up that regimentation. But three weeks into the summer, I find myself making lists of things I need to do, and there is so much to do that I can't imagine how I managed while I was working eight hours on top of it all. There are the household chores, gardening, exercise (aren't retirees supposed to get fitter?), freelance writing, book reviewing, readin...