Shower of Flowers

I received an amazing surprise recently. While enjoying my tea and chatting with some friends, a delivery person ~ who looked very familiar! ~ came in with these flowers. He came right up to me and told me they were for me. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped into a silly grin as I thanked him for them. Then he and my partner exchanged glances. I suddenly knew where I'd seen him previously ~ this setting was simply out of context. As my partner got up to leave, we hugged and a whispered "I love you" completed the moment.

Afterward, as I looked at the flowers sitting on the table and as I took this picture, I found the grin still on my face. I posted the picture on social media and gathered my things. I couldn't shake that feeling of being singled out, of being special, of that sweet innocence that comes with a gift.

Throughout the day, my thoughts returned to that sweet event. How often has someone given you flowers? A couple of weeks ago, while shopping at Costco, I commented to my significant other, "I like getting flowers occasionally." If the flowers came that day or even the next, I would've discounted it. I'd asked for them. What happened instead was that my partner kept my comment in mind and surprised me. No special reason. It felt good to be heard.

Occasionally over the years I've gotten myself flowers. After a particularly difficult work day or because I'd completed a project or simply because they looked so beautiful in the store. Did it matter why? No. Their scent, color and aliveness a always made me smile.

I thought about women I'd known who'd done the same. Our culture of "say it with flowers" implies saying "it" to someone else. It's wonderful when someone else gives them. It's also wonderful, in a very different way, when we care enough about ourselves to gift that kind of beauty to ourselves. For no special reason. Just because we heard our own comment and responded accordingly.

What do flowers signify to you? How do you express your caring for another? Do you remember little comments made by those you care about? How do you act on those comments? How are you affected by little acts of kindness made by one who cares for you? How have other moments of kindness shown up in your life?

Passing through Judgment

When I was little, I used to gather flowers from the field across the street and give them to my mother. She would always find a vase or a jar, fill it with water, place the flowers in it and put the arrangement on the counter or table. I probably did that once or twice a week for several summers. Most of the flowers would be called 'weeds' by many people, but my mother accepted them as graciously and lovingly as though I had brought her a bouquet of roses.

As I got older, though I can't remember precisely when, I learned that the dandelions I included in the mix were weeds. I learned that weeds were undesirable plants. So I stopped picking the dandelions. Then I overheard someone calling the purple and pink clover weeds, so I stopped picking them too. Eventually, I stopped gathering flowers altogether. The judgment of others had presented a different image of the plants and I learned to accept that opinion.

At one point in my life, I taught students who had social and emotional issues. Many of those students came from group homes. Many were also involved in the court system as delinquents. In much of our society, these young people would be considered weeds ~ problems to be plucked out of the general garden of our school environs and our neighborhoods. I found that these were the students I loved most of all. They were rough around the edges. They had unusual ways of viewing the world. For the most part, they were also beautiful and spirited and enthusiastic. It was someone else's judgment that labeled them weeds or problems.

As I got older, I learned that there were many different uses for the dandelion. I ate dandelion greens in my salad. I drank dandelion tea for digestion. At a friend's harvest festival, I even sampled dandelion wine. The beauty of the dandelion is not altered by anyone naming it a weed.

Like those dandelions, I watched my students' gifts come through. One could draw landscapes beautifully. One could spell any word after seeing it one time. Another was protective of our group. Another shone as a mother to her toddling daughter. I cultivated their skills and beauty with every attempt to counter the label they received.

I also found that I am not unlike those weeds ~ either the plant or people kind. Sometimes I am so common that I am overlooked. Or I am seen as invasive or somehow out of place. I have had to contend with my own internalization of those reactions from others. I often seek to hide, to not be noticed, to find a way to be considered the beautiful flower. When I do that, I also hide my own gifts from the world and that is not what I am here to do.

What part of you gets judged a weed? Do you accept that judgment? What gift does that judgment hide? Who have you judged to be a weed? Why? Do you see any gift in them? What do you think you miss when you judge yourself or another? What do you lose?