Dandelions

I remember the very first time Sadie, my oldest daughter, picked a flower to give to me. It was, of course, a dandelion. In her chubby little childish fist, though, it was special to my “mother’s heart.” As a matter of fact, it is currently pressed and dried and residing in her baby book. Back then, her newfound flower-picking ability was especially noteworthy. (Her usual toddler behavior was eating sand out of the sandbox.) A fistful of wilting daisies, a gloppy mess of congealed finger-paint on construction paper, notes with a scribbled “I (heart) Mom,” a wide baby grin, a slobbery good night kiss right on the lips, a sticky hug, a whispered, “you are my best Mommy, Mommy!” or “I never want to let go of this hug!” These are priceless treasures. My kitchen cabinets are covered with crayon drawings, and my counter is usually overgrown with some sort of a floral masterpiece: daffodils in the spring (and sometimes my tulips if I forget to say “Don’t pick those!”), peonies in the summer, leaf bouquets in the fall and sprigs of snow-covered greenery – usually with berries of some sort – in the winter. My demonstrative daughters also love to give me the occasional four-leaf clover, clumsily-strung wildflower chain, pinecone, piece of moss, pretty rock, especially nice piece of grass… you name it. I’ve noticed that when our children are small, we tend to take those acts of love for granted. I’ll admit that I’ve been known to actually (gasp) throw away a note, a drawing or a crumbly dried-out flower. At this point in life, I take for granted that others will take their place in the next day or two. In my heart, though, I know that there will come a day when those childish gifts of love will stop coming - when my kids are too cool, too sophisticated for their dorky old mom. Like the growing season in our part of the country, these childhood days are too soon past us – too soon a memory. In an old country song that I’ve always liked, a man asks his mother what he could possibly give her to repay her for everything that she’s given him. Her reply? “All the treasures in the world will never be enough but I won’t take less than your love.” In the end, when our kids are all grown up, isn’t that what all of us really want? The same sweet, unabashed, unashamed love that they give us when they are little? In this season of being thankful for our mothers – the ones who love us when we’re unlovable, the ones who clean us up when we’re dirty, the ones who make us smile when we’re sad – I will go and pick up a mushy card and maybe a potted plant for my own mom. I will probably even get a gift and a card from my husband. But I will be thinking about how not even the rarest orchid could ever be as precious to me as one droopy-headed dandelion, handed to me by my child. --from my May 13 article for www.mentorpatch.com