Dandelion

On Sunday, we had respite, so Steve and I took Caeden to the park for some end of the season sunshine. On the way there, Caeden gave me his favorite gift: a dandelion. This one had turned from flower to head of fluffy seeds. It was, as he informed me, Perfect. I have received many, many dandelion gifts, sometimes yellow and sunny, sometimes fluffy and delicate. Always presents me with the difficulty of how to later rid myself of it. I usually manage to get it in the garbage furtively and with a lot of guilt,though what on earth I'd ever do with a collection of 152 dandelions in various stages of decay...??

And this dandelion, I was promptly informed, was SPECIAL. It was Perfect! And very beautiful. So I was admonished: keep it carefully, Mommy. Don't blow it, and don't let the wind blow it. This one I was supposed to keep forever.

For my son was applying the lesson I had tried (unsuccessfully, I might add) to teach him over and over again. Treat your things CAREFULLY. Be GENTLE. If you take good care of things, they will last for a long time. If this applies to toys and other household items, why not a dandelion?

Three year olds have no frame of reference, no knowledge or experience that informs them in the sorting of items into the more permanent and the more transitory. They can not differentiate between what is lasting and what is just for the moment.

So my heart sank a bit in me. A sadder sort of lesson to teach my child. I tried to explain to him that some things do not last. We must just enjoy them for the moment we have them. We can not keep them, no matter how careful or gentle we are. No matter how hard we try, we can not keep them long. A difficult and distressing lesson, when applied to dandelions or that other ephemeral childhood object, balloons.

It also made me think of the one thing I desperately wish to keep, but no matter how careful or gentle, no matter how hard I will try, we will not be able to keep for long. My precious, delicate little Joel.

Of course, I tried to put a positive "spin" on the dandelion for Caeden. The seeds that blow off would result in hundreds more dandelion flowers for next summer. (positive only for Caeden, sure the neighbours would see it different!) The age-old truth from the Bible. The wheat plant must die first, to bring forth a great harvest from the seeds.

Yes, true. In this world, at any rate, death is the door to new life, in many different ways. I'm not knocking that. It did comfort Caeden, (key phrase here) a little. And when I think of Joel, it does comfort me a little too. Key phrase: a little.

Some people embrace change wholeheartedly. They can toss out the old furniture and put in new, no problem. Old letters, file em under "G." Moving to a new place? Exciting and stimulating. And why on earth would you leave the wilted roses standing a vase a moment longer? Meet some new people? Let me at em! Can't wait to meet a new face.

Now I'm NOT saying that there is anything wrong with loving new things. It's a good attitude to have. And I'm really not saying that these people don't grieve a loss! Of course they do!

Some of us just seem to love changes more and some of us just seem to cherish the familiar. Both of these are a strength and a weakness. There is also something very good about loving what you have. About holding something dear and doing what you can to cherish it as long as possible.

Like a perfect Thanksgiving Day with Joel. (Not that I was perfect. Put me in a kitchen bustling around and I get pretty bossy. And cranky. Bossy and cranky. I prefer to say I'm feisty.) Joel's day was perfect. He laughed and smiled all day long. He went for a little walk, in his stroller. First one in weeks and weeks and weeks. And he smiled and cooed the whole way. He loved the sounds of his family's voices. He loved all the people and being passed around. It was Perfect.

And I felt the same about the day as I did about the dandelion. I wished I could keep it forever and it would all never end. Sometimes people say that it's better these things don't last. That way we appreciate them more. Don't take them for granted. And we'd get bored or tired of them eventually. There is some truth in that, for there is that human, flawed part of us.

But like I said, some of us embrace the new and even crave it, more than others. Some of us (confession here) will keep an old graying stuffed bear and sleep with it year after year after year until only marriage will make us let it go. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure I'd still be sleeping with that teddy. Seriously.

I don't think that is a bad thing. It's good to embrace the new. That is fearlessness and enthusiasm. But it's good (and I'm gonna argue, even somewhat possible) to love and cherish the same thing for a very, very long time. That is faithfulness and gratitude.

It's a fallen world and we are fallen people. We can not consistently demonstrate fearlessness, enthusiasm, faithfulness or gratitude.

But I'm looking for the day when the imperfect is perfected. When all these things will be possible for always.

Now I am losing precious moment after precious moment. A time that will soon be lost to me forever, the time of loving my son in person and delighting in his joy, in his life. It will be blown away like dandelion fluff in a breeze and there is nothing I can do about that, no matter how much I cherish it, appreciate it, am thankful for it. I can hold every second gently and reverently, but they will still pass and not come back. This is a deep, deep sorrow.

And I'll not apologize for that, of course. One day, the lovely, the comfortable, the precious, the good, one day this will all be found in a place we call eternity. All we have lost, in Christ, will be found many times over. And we will never grow tired or bored. We will remain grateful and faithful. Maybe I'll even find a perfect dandelion there, one with a stem squished by child-like hands. And hear Joel's laughter ringing out.