There are so many species of cultured flowers and plants on this planet. Even though I am not into flowers to the degree my wife, Mary, is, I do enjoy them. I love to walk around in our yard and observe her flowers. However, I suppose my favorite flowers are the ones God plants and cultivates, the wildflowers.
Wildflowers, I like to think, are God’s specialty. They survive droughts, floods, heat, and cold. You can tear up the land with disks, you can cut over the forests, you can burn the ground cover, yet wildflowers waste little time in re-establishing themselves.
Mary and I both look for the emergence of the goldenrods in full bloom each year. They are just about everywhere, with their golden blooms lending their beauty to the landscape. It is as if they are saying, “Take your mind off your troubles for a few moments and bask in our beauty.”
I looked on the internet and found this about these wildflowers:
Goldenrods are included in one of the largest plant families on the prairie – the aster family. The variety in shape, texture and form among goldenrods is surprising. In summer, the nectar in these golden bouquets attracts honey bees, butterflies, and other pollinating insects.
The last sentence above tells me goldenrods are not just taking up space. They are where they are for a purpose. Is not this a lesson for us humans? We are not to just take up space. We are here, rather, for a purpose. We are the design of God, created to bloom as responsible and caring individuals. If you will look carefully at the next patch of goldenrods you see, you will notice this group is made up of individual plants, each doing what it was designed to do.
Goldenrods remind me of my mother,she has been gone a long time now but she loved them to. They gave her bad hayfever but it didn't stop her for enjoying them. That which God plants,Endures!! I really enjoyed this article.
I love this piece Thomas. I have often thought about how the wild flowers and plants survive when others won't. It reminds me of how we can be trodden underfoot, plowed down by sin and cares of this world, hated and plucked up then thrown aside to die, yet there is the one whose blood and love with tender mercy in those nail scarred hands who comes along and cares for us allowing us to live once again with roots planted at the foot of the cross.