I Want To Be A Wildflower

The wheels of a grocery cart pushed by an elderly person, came to rest just to my right and against the curb. Piles of what I would have called trash but to her likely treasure lay piled in sections, coming high above the level of its top. A coat lay near the top possibly meant for barter or for warmth at this nights resting place. It seemed to be the prize of all the clothing jewels and accessories within the carts section. Elsewhere was food no doubt found in the bins behind the nearby restaurants. Other items were stored according to category each to its own place. It had become apparent to me that this old lady was among the homeless.

She was indeed a very old woman bent of back and much in need of a bath. She made her way toward me. Her clothing was in tattered worn layers. I saw holes in the oversized men's shoes upon her feet. Her skin was dried out and there were more wrinkles upon her face then I had ever seen on any human being. She appeared weary beyond measure. Seeming unaware of my presence, she made her way to the bench and sat upon it. Despite her appearance she displayed for a moment a bit of upright pride before slumping down, back again bent from age and the weight of the world upon her. Her faded blue eyes were downcast. Her hands held one another upon her lap.

Evening shadows had chased much of the day away. Passer-bys were out enjoying the evening air. It was still warm. Families took their walks by this place and after their days work and meals were finished. After all it was a park were the children could rid themselves of all that energy before returning home for bath and bed. Catching me distracted and unaware this homeless person begin to weep. Try, as she seemed to do to muffle her grief from those passing by, many heard her discomfort. They moved further to their right from her and the parks bench and hurried up the steps of their journey on the walkway. Perhaps they felt touched and contaminated by the proximity of this homeless soul and had no time for that shabbier side of life.

A five or six year old child hands filled with a bouquet of wild yellow Daisy's stopped. He had been running to his mother to present her with his freshly picked gift found near the playground. The sounds from the women reached out and drew his attention to her and to the look of her trembling shoulders. He approached her timidly. "Here. Take these. Please don't cry" The child thrust forth the flowers into her lap, giving her a hesitant but sincere smile before running back into his world of childhood.

The woman turned now and watched him. She gathered again the flowers that lay scattered in her lap and pulled them close to her face, dampening them with the tears still upon her old cheeks. A smile pulled up at her lips in silent transformation. She returned her gaze downward once more. She began to pray.

"Dear Lord, I'm mighty tired. The days been long and I just don't know how many more steps I can take along the way. Thank you for the child you just sent me. I needed that more than many things that might have come to me. I have one request and I pray you will hear my plea. When it is time for me to leave this wretched being I have turned into, may I trade this body in for a humble package of wildflower seeds. Lord, I want to be a wildflower. Let the angels come and scatter my seeds to the four winds. Let them come as birds, bees, butterflies or other creatures of nature. It makes no difference to me.

Let me be entrenched into the ground and nourished with your rain. As I peek forth testing my spurts of growth, let me stretch toward your sun. May I be the flower that makes its way between the pebbles to watch the passing feet of humanity above it? May I gladden the weary of heart as they go through their day? Let me grow in among the weeds and grasses that shelter the oceans shore line. Let me hear the roar of power within that great and mighty body of water known as ocean, that you created. Let me be the shy barely seen flower a child would `belly up to' for a closer look at the wonder of me. Allow me to be the leader of flowers that make their way through melting mountain snows to greet the new season. Let me rest upon the valleys of your creation. Lastly Lord, as I dance a last dance for you in the cool of evening breeze; as I bend in humbleness sending out one last prayer of thanksgiving for my life of flower-hood; let me drop from my center children I have borne that they may carry on my future of service to you. Lord, let be become a wildflower."

Now darkness was almost upon us and shadows had gone to their nightly rest. A streetlight glowed nearby for sake of safety. Touched with humbleness at the majesty of one I'd judged harshly I slid across the old bench, placing my arm around her and laying my head upon her shoulder. I hoped that despite my being invisible, she yet might feel my love and be comforted. I felt movement and found my comforting soul now had wings of perfect fit and ready to fly. What a wonderful thing and more wonderful yet was the sight that met my eyes. Atop the neglected grocery cart now laid the crowning treasure of a package of wildflower seeds. Beside me the old woman was nowanother soul with wings firmly attached, shackles of earth cast off and heart renewed in silent wonder at a granted miracle of mercy and compassion.

An artist should have been there to capture our spirits as we fluttered our wings and flew home to God. Left behind, there was only the image of a wood splintered rusted old bench, wilted flowers of yellow upon its seat, empty of any other thing. Beside it the cart waited for the angels to come and take away the seeds.