Dandelions

We've been blessed to have Fr. Scott Traynor doing our parish Lenten mission the last few weeks (actually, it's not just our parish; we just get to host), and amazingly, I haven't had to work for most of it. This last week, he introduced us to "Dandelion Theology", which is not a new concept, but a unique way of looking at things. Hopefully they'll post the April 2nd talk here soon, so you can get a better understanding, but here's the basics:

Imagine a little boy wanting to show his love to his mother. He cannot afford an expensive bouquet, so he gathers up a handful of dandelions from the yard and proudly presents them as if they were roses. Of course, his mother, knowing that they are not just weeds, but a token of his love and himself, which he is giving to her, effuses over them--"Thank you. They're beautiful. I love you too."

It's easy to imagine us as the boy, offering God the weeds of our work and praise, wishing we could give him something more. But in this analogy, we are the mom; God is the boy. If he were to offer the fullness of His love, we would be so overwhelmed and unable to take it all in. Instead, He offers us small tokens of Himself--in flowers, phone calls, sunsets, hugs, bread and wine--so that we might say "Thank you. They're beautiful. I love you too."

In the last few days, I've taken to recognizing the dandelions in my life and naming them as such, thanking God for those tokens: a toddler's warm hug after bath time, beautiful snow decorating the tree branches, a way out of an awkward situation, laughing out loud, an enthusiastic greeting from a coworker. Lent is a perfect time (although there's not a bad time) to stop and smell the dandelions. They are always there, but I think too often we're so busy that they are brushed aside as easily as weeds, left to wilt instead of bear fruit.