Last year we made the effort to eradicate a hedgerow of 10-foot-tall roses from the back yard. Why? Well, because they poke. And because when we put in our pool, we didn't want folks getting poked when the errant beach ball, pool noodle or human being went flying from the pool.
We chopped them, burned them, poisoned them.
Look who came back? Small and beautiful and more vigorous than ever, this little shrub poked itself from the mounds of dirt we finally piled atop of them as if to say, "I have the right to be here. I do."
And so I pulled the weeds around this little plant, and each day it grew stronger until its buds opened and it smiled at me in an array of light pink the other day. It welcomed the local bees and gleamed at me.
"I hope I can stay here."
And so it will.
I had stacked some old wood from a spot I'd had reserved over another rose in an effort to stifle its progress. Blooms struggled past old pressure-treated lumber to be seen.
"See what I can do!" it stammered under its heavy burden.
And it did. I cleared away the lumber and set its arms upright. Bees thankful for the effort, the flower thanked me with its sweet scent.
The other day, I saw another small bloom emerge, struggling from the dirt, buried under a mound I had moved to halt its re-emergence. The startling pink gasped for light. I leaned over and smoothed away dirt.
"Hello," it replied sleepily, "What took you so long?"
Sometimes (like those bushes I tried to destroy for a ridiculous reason) our own journeys in life are buried, poisoned and chopped down. Our hopes for health are left bloomless and beaten down, sometimes because of inconvenience, and sometimes because we don't see the beauty in even something as simple as the small, seemingly insignificant triumph of a hardy stem fighting from the dirt.
All we need to be is who we are, without apology, and remember those sturdy little blossoms, shining in bright sunshine. In beauty. In triumph. With pride. And with purpose.
Today, as you look at those flowers, look into yourself, move away the wood piles, smooth away the dirt clods, and pull those weeds choking you.
You have the right to be here.
See what you can do!
What took you so long?
and Hello. To you. Because you're beautiful even hidden under that discarded lumber.