Last week I was in Missouri visiting my dear grandparents. Things are not looking so good there--my grandfather as a very aggressive cancer and is home with hospice, and my grandmother is struggling to keep up with her new nursing responsibilities as well as grappling with what the future holds for her. As I went running one morning along the country roads, I struggled with my own emotions and physical condition. But I began to see the weeds all around me in their color and fine detail. I got back to the house, grabbed a pair of scissors, a bag, and some gardening gloves, and I cut flowers as far as I dared wander into the thick undergrowth full of snakes and chiggers and ticks.
I really believe that when we can open our eyes to find beauty, we can participate in actually creating it. We invite it in. We need it, and we allow it to heal and to refine. Thank goodness for weeds that become wild flowers.