Written in March, 2012.
My husband is mowing the lawn today for the first time this season. It’s a beautiful day, the grass is green and lush, and he’s happily making circles around our yard. When I opened the bedroom curtains this morning, I noticed several small white and purple flowers in the grass below. Delighted, I went outside and admired them. I don’t know if they were planted or grow wild, but they are scattered across the front yard. What a nice surprise! And then, Rick started mowing…
I was suddenly reminded of a childhood memory. I was so very young – maybe two or three – and yes, I do remember it well. Our yard was full of beautiful yellow flowers and I was thrilled with them. I brought my mom a bouquet. Hmpf! She wasn’t impressed and told me her allergies were bothered by them, so I brought them back outside. While I was admiring the field of flowers, my dad fired up the lawn mower. Horrified to see my bright yellow flowers disappearing, I ran to him. He stopped the mower and I explained about the flowers. He told me they were weeds, dandelions, and he was mowing them down. In fact, they were the reason he needed to mow. I begged him not to do it, sure that he would succumb to the pleading of his princess and let the flowers stay. He sent me in to mom and continued to mow. I watched out the window and cried.
As an adult, I now understand why he mowed anyway. I know why landscapers hate dandelions and that yards without them are considered prize-worthy. But as a child, all I saw was the beautiful color and it made my heart sing. (I still love the color yellow.) I have long-since forgiven my father for mowing anyway. I’m not even sure how he could’ve handled the situation differently. How do you explain to a two-year old that her prized flowers are really just weeds?
But then this morning I realized that the pretty purple and white flowers would be gone soon. I don’t think they’re weeds, but Rick certainly can’t mow around tiny flowers scattered in the front lawn. He can’t just let that grass grow because they’re there. Nevertheless, I picked a flower and presented it to him before he got to the front yard. He stopped the mower and stared at me helplessly as I told him they’re all over the front yard. He asked what I wanted him to do. Should he dig them up and move them out of the way? It meant so much to me that he was willing to try to work with me for their safety. I told him he didn’t have to do that; I just like them. And I left him to return to his mowing. Then I did the only thing I knew to do. I picked them! And now this pretty little bouquet is sitting beside me as I write. They will soon wither, but that’s okay. They’ll probably come back again – just like dandelions do. I’m going to enjoy them each time I see them and be thankful for a husband who mows our yard. Oh, and I will thank God for answering my prayer for a home of my own with a yard to mow! What a blessing.
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