Her blue eyes were shining with delight.
"Mama! Mama! I picked these flowers for you!"
Clutched in little girl fingers was a bouquet of lovely spring like purple...weeds. Old-field toad flax to be exact.
But she didn't care about the name. Her seven year old eyes had been captivated by the lovely color and delicate petals.
"Aren't they pretty?"
If one is feeling charitable one could look at them as a sort of wild flower and place them in a tiny vase to
set on the ledge. I guess I was feeling charitable since they are now in a tiny vase sitting on the ledge in my dining room.
Of course no matter how benevolent I might be feeling toward my
Looking at that little vase today made me think how old-field toad flax is a perfect visual metaphor for sin.
Digging them up is painful hard work. The roots can sink in deep and twine themselves around all manner of things that we never intended to be a part of the bouquet we thought we were getting.
It can damage and destroy relationships if left on it's own.
But confession is the ultimate weed killer. True repentance cuts them off and they shrivel up and die.
And forgiveness waters the ground for restoration, allowing true flowers to blossom in an array of beauty and color that can only come from The true Gardener.
Soli Deo Gloria