BEAUTIFUL FLOWER The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Beneath the long, straggly branches
of an old willow tree. Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,
For the world was intent on dragging me down.
And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath
approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me
with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"
In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, With its petals all worn
not enough rain, or too little light.
Wanting him to take his dead flower
and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away.
But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose and declared
with over acted surprise,
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.
That's why I picked it; here, it's for you.
The weed before me was dying or dead.
Not vibrant of colors, orange, yellow or red.;
But I knew I must take it,
or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and replied,
"Just what I need".
But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, He held it mid-air without reason or plan. It was then that I noticed for the very first time That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind. I heard my voice quiver, tears shone like the sun As I thanked him for picking the very best one. "You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play, Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day. I sat there and wondered how he managed to see A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree. How did he know of my self-indulged plight? Perhaps from his heart,
he'd been blessed with true sight.
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see
The problem was not with the world;
the problem was me.
And for all of those times I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in life, and appreciate
every second that's mine.
And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
And smiled as I watched that young boy,
another weed in his; hand
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

Thank You,
~Martha~


"All I have seen teaches me to trust
The Creator
for all I have not seen."
Ralph Waldo Emerson



D A N D E L I O N S

No matter how carefully I try to pull one out,
I never get the whole thing.
The root stays deep in the ground,
threatening to grow and blossom again.
But despite their bad reputation,
dandelions are pretty little flowers
with their yellow strands
all tucked neatly into the center.
And truly they are the most beautiful of all flowers
when presented clutched in a child's dirty little hand.
No one gets yelled at for picking them.
Perhaps they grow only to be used
and enjoyed by children.
Dandelions are ignored or attacked,
never nurtured or cared for,
and yet they always bloom profusely.
They demand no pampering or special attention
to yield their bright blossoms; they pop up in fields,
in lawns, and between cracks in the sidewalk,
even in the best neighborhoods.
Can you imagine trying to grow them in a garden?
They'd sneak through the boundaries
and pop their sunny yellow faces up
in the surrounding lawn.
They would never stay put.
Christians should be more like dandelions.
Our sunny yellow faces should be a reminder that
simple faith has deep roots
that are impossible to dislodge.
Our vast number would show the world
that even though we
are not fancy or pampered,
we are evident everywhere,
even in the best neighborhoods.
We should be as easily accessible as a dandelion.
Jesus is.
We need to get out of our gardens
and jump across the boundaries that keep us
where people expect to find us.
We need to show our sunny yellow faces
in all the spots that need a little brightening
the crack in the sidewalk
or the lawn of a country club.
Dear Lord, may the wind of Your Spirit
scatter us to become effective
for You
wherever we are planted.

"If you have a mind at peace
a heart that cannot harden,
go find a door that opens wide
upon a lovely garden"