One day, when it was finally cooler outside, a homeowner went out to mow. With the upbeat pop-rock of U2 to accompany her, she had mowed the front yard, battled the fairly steep “hill of death,” took a brief but tremendously tedious interlude to pull invasive English Ivy, and was nearly finished mowing the backyard when she stopped short.

Just before the red sloping front of the push mower was a burst of purple. She paused, letting the blades whir as Bono sang on, looking on with curiosity. Then she released the handle, bringing the blades to a halt. She knelt down in front of the great maple, pushing grass clippings aside to see a small cluster of purple flowers on a slender stalk with narrow, drooping leaves.

“Where did you come from?,” said the homeowner baffled. “How did you get here?”

With great caution, and a bemused smile on her lips, she took up her place behind the mower, yanked hard on it’s pull cord, and rejoiced as it sprung back to life with a sputter. She pushed on, guiding the mower carefully around the minuscule plant.

Listen to what this parable means: The homeowner was growing weary with all the yard work she had accomplished so far. She had been discouraged seeing all the weeds and invasive plants that had taken over the yard despite her best efforts. She had been learning to identify plants and with this new knowledge came sadness at how much of her yard had been consumed by aggressive, invasive plants. The task before her to uproot them seemed overwhelming and never-ending, but that tiny bit of beauty amidst faux strawberries, ivy, and crab grass offered something new – a different perspective.

It offered a moment to pause and give thanks, to rejoice in the middle of her labors and to delight in the persistent loveliness in life that somehow finds a way. Yes, the task ahead was difficult, but that did not mean there could not be joy, beauty, and delight on the way. That did not mean that she needed to toil without rest, or to cut down what was pleasing and surprising when it appeared unexplained in her path. It turns out that speed would have only made her destroy the little flower.

Let those with eyes to see, see the forest and the trees.

Let those with eyes to see, glimpse the beauty and the weeds.

© Annabelle P. Markey

Afterword:
I see in some apps this purple flower may also be invasive (*facepalm*)!
Even so, let what is beautiful stop you in your tracks. Let it catch your breath, if only for a moment.