Most people think of dandelions as weeds.
I’ve always thought they were pretty, especially in their puff-ball form, when they’re the most fun to play with.
In recent years, they come to have meaning to me. Not just meaning, but lessons. Some from a few years ago, from Kate.
There were also very important ones from this summer, for anyone who has to let go of anything, because life is like a dandelion. At certain times we “get ripe” and it’s time to move on. The winds blow, and sometimes we go easily. Other times we hold on tightly, fighting what’s taking us elsewhere, and even though we have more time together it hurts more to leave because the wind has been battering us longer. We may still fight against the wind as it carries us far away, to a new place, away from all the other seeds we were close to for a while, not knowing if we’ll ever return.
But it doesn’t end there. Like the seed that remains alone unless it is planted – but then bears much fruit – it doesn’t have to end in fighting.
“He who goes out weeping,
Bearing the seed for sowing,
Shall come home with shouts of joy,
Bringing his sheaves with him.”
– Psalm 126:5
Leaving places like Csehy and Dubai is going out weeping. But it’s bearing seeds for sowing, taking with me all I’ve learned at both places. What’s striking is that the weeping doesn’t turn to joy until we plant, until we let go of the old and let ourselves be in a new place and grow there.
I think that as much as we want to hold on to those people and places behind us, moving on doesn’t mean we leave them behind or forget them, and if we pour ourselves out at home like we do at Csehy, if we let the dandelion spread – we will come home with shouts of joy, bringing our sheaves – the harvest of our work – with us, whether that home is back together at Csehy or Dubai or our reunion in heaven.
Wherever it is – we shall come with shouts of joy.