The flowers are blooming; the pollen is blowing. Spring has sprung! I love all the flowers of springtime… cheerful colors to punctuate any excursion. Flowers make me smile (maybe someone could tell my husband this?). I like to think of flowers as small reminders to us of the great love that God has for us; He has filled our world with beauty.
It seems Anna and Will love flowers, too. They love to comment on the colors of the flowers, smell the flowers, and, yes, pick the flowers. No flower is safe when my children are around… little flowers, big flowers, wildflowers, neighbors’ flowers, flowers at church… you get the idea. Those of you who knew me in college may sense the supreme irony of this situation. I – the one who wanted all flowers to be free, and finally, begrudgingly, picked the tiny yellow flowers from our lawn at the 514 house to preserve their beauty because “Nancy’s gonna kill them with the lawnmower anyway” – I now can hardly stop my kids from cutting short the lives of these happy, innocent flowers! And so, because of my love for flowers, I find I cannot toss out even the lowliest little weed that comes into our house, but instead feel obligated to stick it in some water. Currently I have 2 little bowls and 2 little jars crammed with flowers that Anna and Will have picked – plus 1 large bowl that I had to bring out today because of all the azalea blooms Anna collected this afternoon.
Where will it all end? I try my powers of persuasion, appealing to social courtesy (it’s not nice to pick the neighbors’ flowers), the plight of poor hummingbirds and butterflies with nothing to eat, concern for others (other people want to see the pretty flowers, too), and parental authority (because I said so). And then the sweet little face looks up at me and says with a smile, “I picked these for you, Mommy” (or Will’s abridged version of that statement). And I manage to squeeze more flowers into a little jar on the kitchen table.