Not a Weed, But a Flower

Suppose you'd known for a long time that you were a weed.

When you were just a little sprout, before anyone had told you you were a weed, you'd known something of what flowers feel like; and as you grew, you felt you'd like it better if you were a flower.

But you learned to be satisfied living as a weed nonetheless—most of the time. You learned to bend a little so as not to take too much sun, and to eat and drink and breathe, not quite so much nourishment from the flowers around you.

It's only in spring when the flowers start to bloom, that it's hard to be weedlike; then, when the warm breeze comes, you feel a stirring of hope, a wish for just a taste of blooming. But you can't of course, you're a weed.

Now suppose that one day a lovely creature walks into your field looking for flowers, and suppose she walks straight up to you and says: "What a strange and lovely flower this is hidden from the light!"

For a moment you would not believe her. But oh, you would want to. So you might begin softly, to look and feel around yourself. And what if you discovered that this had all been a silly mistake—that you were not a weed, but a flower after all.

Well, that's what it feels like. A little sad that I spent so much time as a weed when I didn't have to. A little in shock. A little exposed. Excited, in a quiet way, to discover what I'm all about. I don't know much about being a flower, yet. But it's me, and I love it, and I'm giving it all I've got."

Author Unknown

Allyn Evans
www.allynevans.com
info at allynevans.com

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