What does that mean?
Why are some people planted in lush gardens and others in barren deserts; while still others are in rocky outcroppings or in climates that only allow blooms to happen for short amount of time?
Why are some blooms spectacular and others more simple and understated?
Why are some flowers highly praised and others overlooked?
I love wildflowers. I have since I was a child. Directly behind my childhood home is a large hill. Every spring and summer the hillside is filled with wildflowers. I grew up appreciating these simple, yet beautiful blooms. I often came home from my hillside adventures with sego lily, black eyed Susan and Indian paintbrush bouquets.
I also had a paper route as a child, and one of my customers was the local flower shop. I loved to admire the magnificent flowers that I saw there, but somehow I instinctively knew that these were not "my" type of flowers. My type of flowers were to be the simple wildflowers.
I say instinctively, but in reality it had nothing to do with instinct at all.
I love wildflowers. I have since I was a child. Directly behind my childhood home is a large hill. Every spring and summer the hillside is filled with wildflowers. I grew up appreciating these simple, yet beautiful blooms. I often came home from my hillside adventures with sego lily, black eyed Susan and Indian paintbrush bouquets.
I also had a paper route as a child, and one of my customers was the local flower shop. I loved to admire the magnificent flowers that I saw there, but somehow I instinctively knew that these were not "my" type of flowers. My type of flowers were to be the simple wildflowers.
I say instinctively, but in reality it had nothing to do with instinct at all.
In my hometown, like many, popularity and value and worth were determined by where you lived. My home was BELOW the hill. The fancy homes were ON the hill. "Roses" bloomed on the hill while "wildflowers and weeds" grew below.
From my earliest memories, other people made very clear that I was not blooming in the right garden. I was a wildflower - a weed - and NOT a rose. I had no business trying to associate at school, at work, (at church even) with the beautiful roses and lilies and other "fine" flowers. I needed to stay in the weed patch. I needed to know my place.
Well, the problem was that I was a very outspoken weed. I actually had the nerve to think of myself as beautiful and worthwhile. I actually though that my simple blooms could add something to the roses and lilies and together we could be spectacular. I was reminded often that this wasn't true. I was simply a weed and I'd better not forget it.
Eventually, I was "transplanted" out of the weed patch. During college and subsequent moves to different cities, I was able to start fresh without anyone knowing where I came from.
From my earliest memories, other people made very clear that I was not blooming in the right garden. I was a wildflower - a weed - and NOT a rose. I had no business trying to associate at school, at work, (at church even) with the beautiful roses and lilies and other "fine" flowers. I needed to stay in the weed patch. I needed to know my place.
Well, the problem was that I was a very outspoken weed. I actually had the nerve to think of myself as beautiful and worthwhile. I actually though that my simple blooms could add something to the roses and lilies and together we could be spectacular. I was reminded often that this wasn't true. I was simply a weed and I'd better not forget it.
Eventually, I was "transplanted" out of the weed patch. During college and subsequent moves to different cities, I was able to start fresh without anyone knowing where I came from.
Now, I didn't quite make it to the premier rose garden, but at least it was a garden with a large variety of different blooms, each with their own unique colors and sizes and fragrance. There were roses and wildflowers and weeds growing peacefully all together.
More and more often, the roses that came to grow in my garden were thorn-less roses who saw the beauty in themselves AND in others and often preferred the company of weeds and common wildflowers to the company of the designer roses. I was able to mingle with roses and daisies alike.
More and more often, the roses that came to grow in my garden were thorn-less roses who saw the beauty in themselves AND in others and often preferred the company of weeds and common wildflowers to the company of the designer roses. I was able to mingle with roses and daisies alike.
But once in a while, a "designer" rose would grace us with their presence in the garden. This rose was bred for greatness and they knew it, and we had better know it too. These were miserable times in the garden for everyone. These roses tried to reminde me once again that I had no business trying to associate with roses that were worth far more than I ever could be.
But by turning to friendly roses and wildflowers and beautiful weeds, those thoughts didn't last. Over the years I have come to know that the Creator of roses is also the Creator of weeds.
But by turning to friendly roses and wildflowers and beautiful weeds, those thoughts didn't last. Over the years I have come to know that the Creator of roses is also the Creator of weeds.
"Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons" Acts 10:34.
"... I understood that every flower created by Him is beautiful, that the brilliance of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not lessen the perfume of the violet or the sweet simplicity of the daisy." Saint Theresa of Lisieux
So, what have I learned from my days in different gardens?
- Every flower is beautiful, even the weeds.
- It is possible ... and even beautiful ... for a variety of flowers to bloom in the same location. Each adding its own unique contribution to the garden.
- Some roses are only pretty on the outside. Their insides are full of thorns.
- BUT, not all roses have thorns. Many are quite lovely and grow well with many varieties of different flowers.
- I've come to know amazing people who will never be welcome in the rose garden; beautiful, kind, intelligent, thoughtful, worthwhile people who have been treated like weeds their entire lives. It's ok to be a weed. It's not ok to destroy the self worth of others.
- The smallest, most fragile and almost shy blossoms are some of my favorites.
I love the weeds and see their value. I love the daisies (yes, a weed), the baby's breath, the forget me nots, the yarrow, the cornflowers (bachelor buttons), and the purple loosestrife. Some of these I've even planted in my garden ON PURPOSE ... imagine that. I've also planted a beautiful assortment of roses.
