Weeds and Flowers

The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. Psalms 19:1

I built my patio nineteen years ago, when I was pregnant with Lindsay, from blocks obtained from an old utility room. For years, hubby has tried to convince me to rip it up, offering to build me a better one. I have refused every time.

DSC00827It may not be the prettiest thing, but it holds the best memories. My late father-in-law used to come for chats under the oak tree. My kids spent hours going ’round and ’round on their Little Tikes car and motorcycle. We enjoyed birthday parties, late-night talks around a fire, and grilled suppers on it. In the summers, I strung lights in the oak, and we enjoyed late-night swims. I’ve wept and prayed, written songs and verse while surveying the beauty of creation.

Every year finds me on hands and knees pulling the weeds from cracks. And every year, my family asks, “Why don’t you just spray the weeds?” I point to the flowers. They peer at the flowers growing between the cracks. They understand. They kneel and begin pulling weeds.

The weeds in this life are a nuisance. If I had my choice, I would choose a life without weeds. But the flowers often found among them are precious.

Trials and tests are like those weeds. I would often choose a life without them. But the blessings I have received among them are priceless.

How about you?

Would you choose a life without weeds if it meant no flowers?

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