dandelions

I prayed as I walked today. I usually do.

This was different.

I’ve had a rough week. My grandchildren came over earlier and spent most of a day helping me empty the shed out back. There were things that had been stored in there “temporarily” nearly eight years ago.

No. It wasn’t the grandkids helping that made it a rough week. It’s just the reminder that I can’t do the things I used to be able to. I helped when they would let me and a few times when they didn’t want me to. Finally, I got out a deck chair and watched. And, felt sorry for myself.

I love that they want to help me. Love it.

I hate that they need to.

I’m a do-it-yourselfer from way back. For all the jobs I need done. And for all the jobs others around me need done.

The next day, another family member asked me if I could help with a job they had. As we spoke on the phone, I saw myself lying in bed the night before, back spasms denying me sleep, and realized that saying yes would just lead to more endless nights.

I said no.

It makes me sad—saying no.

So, today as I walked, instead of praying for family members and neighbors, world events and physical needs, I prayed for a sign. A sign that God is still listening to me. That there is still more ahead—more than just sitting in the deck chair and watching.

I got an answer. Dandelions.

I think it was His answer to my prayer. I’m not sure.

As I walked along the sidewalk next to the local university, I saw hundreds of the little yellow flowers scattered across the otherwise well-manicured lawns. I don’t remember seeing them there before.

I’ve written before of loving the little weeds. I love them for their tenacity. In the face of overwhelming hatred and bigotry, they thrive. Most of my neighbors hate them. Perhaps, most of my readers do too.

Still, they grow. I mow them down and they’re poking their fluffy heads above my grass almost before I can park my mower. I’ve never done it, but I’m told folks spend good money to spray herbicide on their yards to kill them.

And yet, they come back again.

I said the little flowers I saw today were an answer to my prayer. Actually, they reminded me of the photo I shared with my friends last week.

For the last few years, a little stand of tulips has popped up in my yard. Some years, they’re beautiful. This year is one of those years. You can see that in the photo that accompanies these words.

But, I have to coddle the plants. I have to remember to let the foliage grow undisturbed for a couple of months every year. They didn’t bloom at all last year, because the deer that roam my neighborhood thought the plants looked tasty and disturbed them considerably.

If you look at that photo again, can you see the little yellow blossom to the left of the showy tulips?

I have never—never—coddled one of those yellow flowers. Yet, there it is, proud and growing right next to the tulips—just as if it has a right to be there. And, in a few days, there will be a white, fluffy head standing tall right above where you see that little bloom today.

Every kid in the world knows what you do with that little fluffy ball. You hold it up next to your mouth and you blow it as hard as you can.

Have you ever watched a kid doing that? Pure joy! Unsullied, unadulterated, joy!

“And he said: ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.'” (Matthew 18:3, NIV)

Well, perhaps that’s a bit of a departure from the context of that verse, but it speaks to the truth that children recognize instinctively, and our aging, hardened spirits have long ago forgotten.

The lessons of our Creator’s world are hard to miss—if we look for them.

In hardship and plenty, His blessings abound. Whether we’re coddled or trampled down, His promise is sure.

We will accomplish what He has for us if we persevere.

“He, who began the good work in you, will complete it…” (Philippians 1:6)

I want to offer tulips. And azaleas. Roses and lilies.

What I’ve got to offer these days is dandelions. And a few wild onions.

Mankind has always had its vision of how the world should function. But, our mortal thoughts are not how our Creator has ever brought about His vision for us.

I write this as what we call Holy Week is about to commence. If this week teaches us nothing more, it is that His ways are not ours. No Hollywood writer could have ever conceived of this plot twist. Ever.

He still works in ways that confound our wisdom—our agendas. Where we would plant roses and rhododendrons, He scatters dandelions.

I’m content with that.

Even if it means I get to sit in the deck chair while the youngsters do the heavy lifting.

There is still more. Up ahead.

Better things than ever I imagined or planned for.

Come plant some dandelions with me.

“When life is not coming up roses
Look to the weeds
and find the beauty hidden within them.”
(L.F. Young)

“Yet true godliness with contentment is itself great wealth. After all, we brought nothing with us when we came into the world, and we can’t take anything with us when we leave it.” (1 Timothy 6:6-7, NLT)

Do you remember pants with cuffs?

I don’t really understand the purpose of cuffs on pants.

Okay, that’s not completely true. I recall pants I wore when I was a young boy. They had cuffs. Those cuffs didn’t resemble ones on the slacks which can be purchased in the local men’s wear shop at all. Not at all.

I wore pants that could be grown into. By that, you should understand that they were, more often than not, hand-me-downs passed to me from an older brother.

I am the youngest of four boys. The possibilities for hand-me-downs were endless. Sometimes, the hand-me-downs came to us already well-worn—shared by friends who had older boys than my oldest brother.

Hand-me-down hand-me-downs, you might say.

You get the picture.

Even when I was fortunate and the powers-that-be thought it prudent to purchase a new pair of jeans for me, they were always ordered (from the Sears & Roebucks catalog, of course) a size or two too big.

Either way—hand-me-downs or new—my pants always had cuffs. Rolled up wads of material at the bottoms of the legs, they were always in the way.

But, the worst—absolutely the worst—were the times when I made the mistake of taking a shortcut through a dewy, damp field in the morning on my way to school. Perhaps, I wasn’t going to school, but simply taking a Saturday stroll down to the fishing hole with the brothers.

The wet grass transferred its load of moisture directly into the cuffs—and, you guessed it, the cuffs would unroll. Dragging the ground, the soaked cloth gathered all the dirt, leaves, and burrs to be found in the field.

That would be just the time some wise-guy would holler out, Hey! let’s race to the fishing hole!

Perhaps, it was only because I was the pipsqueak kid brother. I blame the wet pants. Either way, I was always the last one to the water’s edge.

The combination of the heavy dew and all the added debris hanging from the lowest extremity of my blue jeans made it feel like I was dragging one of the weights from our bodybuilding set behind each leg.

There was even one time. . . No, that might not be appropriate here. Let’s just suggest that it would be advisable to always wear a belt, and leave it at that, shall we?

You get the picture. Cuffs, especially wet ones, are not a great fashion statement.

All that was years ago. But even today my old friend from school days, Jeannean, gets out early on lots of mornings. She walks through some of those same dew-covered fields and along some of those same levees I remember from my childhood.

I bet she doesn’t wear rolled up jeans for the outings.

The camera she hauls along with her on those walkabouts captures some amazing shots. She has been kind enough to allow me to use some of them on occasion.

I wonder. In her photograph. which accompanies this page, can you see what covers the head of that puffball of a dandelion? If necessary, you can click on the picture to enlarge it. Go ahead. I’ll wait for you.

The dew has settled into the white parachute-like stems above the tiny seeds and saturated them. It’s not something that one would ordinarily care about, but those stems, every one of them, has a tiny hair-like umbrella, or parachute, structure at the end of it.

When the wind blows, the hairs stand out, catching the breeze and pulling the seed free from the plant. The seeds fly as far as the wind will carry them before gently dropping to the earth again, to repopulate again and again.

The dandelion in Jeannean’s photo has a slight problem. You saw it, didn’t you?

When they are wet, the tiny hairs are plastered in place, unable to spread out and catch a ride on the wind. Saturated with water, they cannot function. If they do, in a heavy wind, get pulled from the plant, they will simply fall to the ground nearby, where they must strive with all the other seedlings for nutrients in the soil.

They were made for better things.

We were too.

There are so many things in this world that contrive to weigh us down. Like the dew on the dandelion, or even the cuffs of a ragamuffin kid’s jeans, it seems always to be the mundane, the commonplace, which cause the most problems.

The words of the Apostle come to mind as I consider the truth in front of my nose.

The world is watching. Time to shrug off the extra weight and the sin that is so bothersome. In their full view, let’s run the race that is in front of us. Steady now. There’s a long way to go. (Hebrews 12:1)

It’s impossible to float on the wind with all that extra weight, much less win a foot race with the others who are headed for the same fishing hole.

The course laid out for us in life is so much more important. It calls for careful consideration. We don’t need anything to weigh us down.

There’s still such a long way to go.

We don’t have to travel in hand-me-downs either.

I’m traveling light.

You?

“But I’ve been thinking, Mr. Frodo, there’s other things we might do without. Why not lighten the load a bit? We’re going that way now, as straight as we can make it.” He pointed to the Mountain. “It’s no good taking anything we’re not sure to need.”
Frodo looked again towards the Mountain. “No,” he said, “we shan’t need much on that road. And at its end, nothing.”
(from The Return of the King ~ J.R.R. Tolkien ~ English author ~ 1892-1973)

Travel light. Comb and toothbrush and no extra luggage. Don’t loiter and make small talk with everyone you meet along the way.
(Luke 10:4 ~ The Message)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

Weeds

Jettison