Flowers and Mother's Day

In Denver, Mother's Day weekend is usually when people say that frosty mornings are over for the season, and that we can finally safely plant things out doors. Saturday was warm, but overcast and cloudy. It looked like we might get an afternoon shower, but nothing too serious. When I went shopping that morning, I picked up a few flowers to plant along the fence facing the street. After coming home, I spent a little while playing in the rich earth, transplanting some tulips that were already there, and planting three shades of purple pansies, digging holes and setting the fragile flowers in their new home. I hoped they would be happy there. As I finished placing the last few plants in the soil, the clouds opened, and a gentle sprinkling of rain watered them for me. I envisioned the tiny plants blooming and growing, filling the space with their lovely flowers.


Mother's Day dawned cold and wet. As I ate the delicious biscuits that Steven made for breakfast and admired the bouquet of bright and colorful flowers he brought me - roses and carnations and other flowers I don't know the names of, I looked out the window at the gray skies and the rain that poured down and hoped that my little pansies were doing okay. When everyone was dressed and ready for church, Steven brought the van around from the garage to the street so we wouldn't have as far to dash through the rain, but as I ran, I glanced at the newly planted flowers. They were still bravely standing, their flowers open, reaching towards the dripping sky.


By the time we returned home from church, the rain had turned to snow and my poor flowers were buried. The snow continued all afternoon, and into the evening. I tried not to think about them as we chatted with Steven's family via Google Hangout. I put them out of my mind as I enjoyed the delicious dinner of roast chicken and homemade bread that Steven made - all by himself. I thoroughly enjoyed chatting with my parents last night via Skype. I had a very enjoyable Mother's Day.

This morning as the kids and I trudged through the still-falling snow to school, I looked again at the flower bed, where only the tall tulips were visible amid the white. Some part of me still hopes that the pansies will be able to pull through the cold, but I know that isn't likely. In spite of my good intentions, I'm afraid I've doomed them to a cold and miserable death.


As I mourned my poor flowers this morning, the thought occurred to me that in some ways, gardeners are like mothers. They plant their seeds, and bring children into the world hoping that they will be happy, that they will bloom where they are planted. They care for them, make sure they are watered and fed, and try to shelter them from what dangers they can. But sometimes unforeseen dangers arise. Sometimes there is nothing more that a mother can do except to hope and pray that her child is strong enough to endure the hardships that come.

It is still early in the season. I can go to the store and get more flowers to plant in my flower bed, and I will be okay with that. When our children experience hard times, it is harder to recover. They can not be replaced. A lot more time and effort goes into bringing children into the world and raising them and teaching them and strengthening them. And hopefully it will take a lot more than one unexpected snow storm to bring a child down.


I love my mother. I'm grateful for the things that she has taught me: to laugh when things go wrong. To sing while I work. To pitch in and help when work needs to be done. To make time for the things that are most important. That family is one of the most important things of all.

Thanks Mom! Happy Mother's Day!

 

 

 

 

P.S. I just had to add a note. Pansies are hardier than I realized. They endured the freezing temperatures and being buried in snow quite well. That afternoon they peeked their heads up through the snow and they looked great!