Dandelions

For many of us, dandelions are simply a useless weed. We combat them in our yards; we stamp them out wherever they pop up, lest they infest our otherwise pristine yards with their ugly stalks and displace the more-favored green of our grass.

But it wasn’t always this way. As children, we didn’t see the weeds. We just saw the amazing, beautiful bright-yellow flowers poking up above the expanse. As a child, I remember picking these flowers (and lots more) to give to my mom—a “beautiful” bouquet of weed-flowers presented as my best to her, for her to cherish. In fact, our own children do the same for Miranda (especially the boys); they’re always on the lookout for weed-flowers for Mommy.

I was reminded of the dandelion this week when I heard Five Iron Frenzy‘s song of the same name, Dandelion. Miranda (and my mom, and many others), just like the mommy in the song, “sees love where anyone else would see weeds.” (For those who might have trouble following the lyrics in the video, I’ve included the lyrics in text form below.)

As awestruck as I am at the privilege we have to use our talents and gifts to serve and honor God, I so often feel like the songwriter. I offer up my best to God, for His honor, His glory. As good as my best gifts are, they are but useless weeds. I often wonder where I fit into the greater puzzle of what God is doing in the world. I’m “not a martyr, not a saint,” and I do, indeed, “scarcely struggle through” most days.

My prayer, like that of the artist, is simple: as I offer up my best to God, that He searches my heart, and sees flowers in my weeds.

May my dandelions be an acceptable offering.

Dandelions (by Five Iron Frenzy)

In a field of yellow flowers, underneath the sun,
bluest eyes that spark with lightning, boy with shoes undone.
He is young, so full of hope, reveling in tiny dreams,
filling up his arms with flowers, right for giving any queen.

Running to her, beaming bright, while cradling his prize.
A flickering of yellow light within his mother’s eyes.
She holds them to her heart, keeping them where they’ll be safe,
clasped within her very marrow, dandelions in a vase.

She sees love where anyone else would see weeds.
All hope is found. Here is everything he needs.

Fathomless Your endless mercy, weight I could not lift.
Where do I fit in this puzzle, what good are these gifts?
Not a martyr, or a saint, scarcely can I struggle through.
All that I have ever wanted, was to give my best to You.

Lord, search my heart, create in me something clean.
Dandelions—You see flowers in these weeds.

Gently lifting hands to heaven, softened by the sweetest hush,
a Father sings over his children, loving them so very much.
More than words could warrant, deeper than the darkest blue,
more than sacrifice could merit, Lord, I give my heart to You.

Lord, search my heart, create in me something clean.
Dandelions—You see flowers in these weeds.