Wildflowers or Weeds

One of my favorite childhood memories is frolicking in the open field just down the dirt road from our rural yard on sunny summer mornings. The field was like a fairyland to me, filled with hundreds of vibrant buttercups that were oh-so-beautiful when gathered into a bouquet and delivered to my delighted mama as a fistful of love.

While she carefully slid their clumsily child-broken stems into a cut glass flower vase, Mama always made a wonderful fuss over my sweetness that matched that of the “wildflowers” I brought, motivating me to gather another bundle the next day.

Our country kitchen table never lacked for flowery sweetness on any given summer morning, let me tell you.

As a bonus, I loved to hold one of the buttery yellow blossoms under my sister’s chin to see if it produced a yellow reflection there, which meant, of course, that she liked butter. It always did and she always did.

Ah. Beloved memories surrounded those faithful buttercups. They were a precious part of my childhood.

And then one day teenage me discovered that buttercups (and their magical, wish-granting cousins the dandelions) were considered mere weeds by the rest of the world. Weeds! People actually mowed them down and considered them a nuisance to a well manicured lawn. I was flabbergasted! What were they thinking? What loveliness and awe they were missing!

Even now, whenever I see buttercups as an adult, I get a warm, fuzzy feeling inside and can’t help but smile at the blessing they bring me.

Then as a young married woman, I’ll never forget the first time my husband’s parents came to visit soon after we’d moved into our first house. I’d painstakingly landscaped the front yard myself, proudly planting colorful flowerbeds that were able to withstand the full Florida sun beating down upon them. The gardener I got them from said they were called Vinca. I had never heard of them before. The name sounded so Italian chic to me. Who wouldn’t want some? They were such sturdy, cheerful little bright purply-pink and twinkly white flowers, I couldn’t wait to show them off.

When my parents-in-law drove up, Spouse and I went out to meet them. I secretly wanted to hear them ooh and ahh over all my hard labor in my beautiful gardens. But the first thing my MIL said when she saw my happy little vinca bed was, “Oh, my. I see you have periwinkles. In New York we considered them a nuisance weed and pulled them up by the roots whenever we saw them.”

I was horrified. And truly worried that I might have to slap her wrist if she suddenly reached out to yank my prize posies out of the ground.

Thankfully, she didn’t attempt it, but she did present the whole “periwinkles are weeds” argument every single time she came to visit for the next twelve years until we moved. (So naturally I planted more.)

I’ll say to you now what I said to her (okay, I mostly just thought it since she was my MIL, but I really wanted to say it out loud): PERIWINKLES ARE NOT WEEDS! THEY ARE LOVELY FLOWERS! At least at my house. Because beauty IS in the eyes of the beholder, and so is worth.

A flower may be valued more than a weed in your eyes but buttercups and periwinkles can be called stinkweed and sourroot and still be my preference of flora to lift my spirit out of the gloom pit.

Does it really matter whether they’re weeds or flowers if they’re a blessing to you?

Hey, wasn’t it Shakespeare who said, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”? The old Bard was more than just a pretty face.

Titles, names, and categories are meaningless if they devalue something you deeply appreciate and hold dear. How can a shallow designation ever truly describe the importance and deeper meaning of a creative masterpiece of God?

In fact monikers can be incendiary if used as a verbal weapon. Aren’t we seeing that play out in our society as we speak? People are emphatically more complex than fauna, yet we tend to sort them into simplistic categories too and render judgment on their worth based on whether – to us – they’re weeds or flowers.

To us. Not to Papa God. To Him, each and every one of us is a unique gorgeous flower of immeasurable value. Whether we’re in a tended garden or a wild unkempt landscape. And He likes to pop up a pretty periwinkle or happy buttercup to spread beauty in the most unexpected places!

So, my friend, know that you’re always welcome to come to my house, sit a spell, and chic-chat over a nice hot chai latte. But please don’t dis my centerpiece of what my neighbor laughingly calls garden weeds. They bring me great joy and could do the same for you if you’ll look past their labels and see the true beauty there.