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)

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2025. All Rights Reserved.