A WEED'S WORTH

My whole life, “Who determines a weed?” was a constant rhetorical question my mother would ask as she saw fields of wildflowers or uninvited foliage in flower beds. My parents’ love for the outdoors and a beautiful lawn/landscape was passed on to me. However, it did not happen overnight. Growing up, my parents’ idea of a family Saturday usually meant working outside (after inside chores) in the blistering Louisiana heat. We would take a break or have a picnic lunch in the shade of one of our oak trees, and then back to “Oh, the joys of the outdoors” work. (Insert rolling of eyes here.)

My sisters and I were raised by two parents who are still constantly entranced into their flower beds without a second thought to snap a dead branch or rearrange an area. They intentionally mow at high noon every few days. They talk or sing to their plants (Mom) as they refresh them with cool well water even though there is a sprinkler system. They choose to be outside in God’s creation especially during a Louisiana rain. Somewhere through the years, it’s inevitable—you either grow to hate the outdoors and heat or fall in love with it. And I absolutely fell in love. 

Though I have had the blessing of some beautiful yards, the present one continues to grieve me. Over the five years that we have been back in Tennessee, we have invested so much money and time into this lawn, professional and personal—all in vain. Focusing on the corner flowerbed where the mailbox is, hundreds of dollars have been spent trying to get a variety of things to grow. Only the faithful Knockout Rosebush prevailed! That corner gets no sympathy from the harsh sun all day and no amount of care or song helps!

This past fall, our Knockout Rosebush began to show signs of distress. Regardless of my added attention, this spring, its branches snapped like toothpicks. Dead. And, it became a source of angst for me. Once full of life and colorful blooms—now dead. And it grieved me.

Recovering from shoulder surgery but very determined, I persuaded our granddaughter Olive to break the dead bush down until Leo could dig up the stump. It crumbled so sadly. And now sat a stump I had to look at until it would be removed. (I think Leo made me wait to teach me patience. I am my parents’ daughter—stubborn and self-reliant.)

Weeks went by with this stump dampening my view. Little seedlings kept popping up and I kept snipping them down. They were NOT from my rosebush, so weeds they must be. They kept growing. I kept snipping. They kept growing. I cut them down. Then I recalled my mother’s voice, “Who determines a weed? Some of the most beautiful blooms are what most would consider weeds.” And with that, I decided to let the darn saplings grow. I would walk by regularly and ask, “So what are you? I guess we will see.”

I watched as she grew up fast. Inches. 3 feet. 4 feet! One morning home from a trip…she was a burst of BLOOMS! In this drought! In this heatwave! BEAUTIFUL. PINK. BLOOMS. It turns out that we have a Rose of Sharon!!! I shouted, “Well, look at you!!” and gathered others to show them she wasn’t a weed at all. Who knew the whole time I kept snipping her down, she was growing a root system that can now endure this heat and drought!

As I stood gazing at her array of flowers—dark pink, light pink, and white—I felt the Lord tug at my heart. Not to over-spiritualize this weed/stump story, but there is a painful yet inspiring message in it (for me and for many of my dear friends who are experiencing trials by fire). Our flourishing Rose of Sharon is a reminder that when LIFE trips me up and cuts me down, there is ONE greater still Who is building my foundation and root system deeper and wider than even I can see. When I am most vulnerable, and the enemy comes in to steal, rob, and destroy, my roots grow stronger because I have a Redeemer Who watches over me day and night and never slumbers. When sorrow stings my heart back to the core, my roots go deeper because HE is the lifter of my head! My roots grow deeper because from HIM flow rivers of living waters. Until one glorious day my Creator will decide, “Enough! BLOOM Baby, BLOOM!” And HE will uncover an array of beauty born of pain and fight, of grief and tenacity—like the little saplings! Regardless of what LIFE throws at me, though I may fall, HE will make me stand because HE is able, and I will never stop praising! 

Some of us may appear to look like weeds or feel like weeds, but soon there will be a morning when we will burst in color and splendor for HIS glory! And HE will smile at us and say, “Well, look at you, My Rose of Sharon!”

__________ 

[The Rose of Sharon is not truly a "rose." It is a member of the Hibiscus family, according to the U.S. Forest Service. The hibiscus flower traditionally represents "delicate beauty." In the Bible, the Rose of Sharon symbolizes beauty, and it is used in the book of Song of Solomon to describe the beauty of King Solomon's lover. It has a Biblical significance in that Jesus Christ is called the Rose of Sharon in Christian works because of the similarities between the plant and Christ. The Rose of Sharon is a flowering bush or shrub known for its large blooms. It can be pruned into the shape of a tree. The most popular colors of Rose of Sharon are shades of pink, white and blue. This shrub can grow up to 12 feet tall and 10 feet wide! (Ref. Hunker.com)]

NOT A WEED!