Dandelion in the Fall

I went for a walk today. I needed a major attitude adjustment. Too much stuff to do, not enough time, too many people needing a piece of me--too many balls to juggle. You know--the standard fare. As I walked, the blue sky opened up before me. The sunlight glistened off the brilliant fall leaves, moist from the dew and the rains from the previous day. It was stunning, but my heart and head were burdened. The to do list grew heavy on my shoulders and it seemed to swallow me up--even as all around me the crisp autumn breeze beckoned to allow my cares free flight. I thought about Jesus' promises. "Come to me all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, for my burden is easy and my load is light. Learn from me for I am kind and humble of heart." I repeated it over and over. How? If I take my yoke off, will He catch it? How can I lift my yoke to give it to Him--couldn't He just take it? Do I have to take His yoke before He takes mine? These questions swirled in my head.

I had been so involved in helping my oldest son with his homework this week, that I had completely forgotten about something I was supposed to help my youngest son with. The guilt was heavy on me. It was going to be just fine--but that didn't change the fact--not enough of me to go around.

I kept walking. Surely, if I repeated this verse often enough I would begin to believe it, to feel it, to really experience it. I just had to say it with faith. Walking. Walking. Through tears, reciting. Then, there it was--on the side of the road, in the shade of a mailbox on October 29--a brand new dandelion just opening up. I stopped and wondered what kind of crazy flower would begin blooming now when the temperatures at night were teasing the freezing mark? What kind of foolish bloom would flourish when the days are at their shortest, the wind cooler each day, and the sun growing dimmer with each passing hour? I marveled. I knew why it was there. I needed to take a lesson from this flower.

Despite a flurry of dead and fallen leaves around it--this flower bloomed. Though, the seed fell in the barren soil right beside the road--where the salt and the sand from the winter plow trucks made the growing conditions oppressive--this flower bloomed. Though June brought flooding and constant rains that could have rotted the seed away, it remained steadfast, clung to the sand and in the right time--it bloomed. Though winter ominously hovered, and autumn light was slipping away, this flower had done what it was supposed to do. Though cold fall rains had pelted the soil and brisk winds had whipped across the ridge, this dandelion remained stalwart and accomplished it's purpose.

It's strength was in its weakness. It was not strong enough, nor placed in conditions ideal enough to bloom, when it was "supposed" to. But, because it had to struggle and withstand so much during a difficult summer, it was blooming now--resolute against the crisp October winds. It stood alone, an early spring flower blooming even when the hydrangeas and the mums were starting to wither. I marveled.

I need to bloom where I am planted. I need to be there for my son struggling with school, the one who is excelling in school, and the son who spends his whole days inventing Lego models in his mind. I need to bloom for my husband who counts on me to hold it all together, for my patients who count on me to be compassionate, and knowledgeable and present. I need to bloom for my friends who count on me when they need to talk to a someone who cares. I need to bloom for my parents and family who depend on me in countless ways. I need to do what I am purposed to do and not wither and wilt under the harsh autumn winds. God is responsible for where I am and how I got there. I am responsible for staying and doing the work before me. He will be responsible for the results, I just need to remain. Thank you God for a dandelion in October, just when I needed it.