Crying Wind

Flowers are one of the special gifts God gave us. Flowers adorn our births, weddings, anniversaries, and our deaths. Flowers speak for us when we can't find the words to say, "I love you," "I'm Sorry," "Goodbye."

Every Indian tribe has legends about flowers. Besides being beautiful, many flowers were used for ceremonies, healing, medicine and food. I've always loved the flower called Indian Paint Brush. Its red petals are one of the first to bloom in the spring and last until the end of summer. A Cherokee legend tells the story of a boy named Little Gopher. He was small and weak, and the other boys in the tribe ignored him. Even his name humiliated him; he was named after an ugly brown varmint that lived underground.

Little Gopher loved to draw. He would use a stick to draw pictures in the dirt. He would crush berries to make paint so he could paint on rocks. Over time he became very good at painting, and sometimes others in the tribe would ask him to paint pictures on buckskin.

Little Gopher loved painting pictures of the trees and hills and the sky, but what he really wanted was to paint pictures of the sky at sunset when the sky looked like it was on fire. No matter what kinds of berries he would crush, he could never make paint as red as the sunset.

When the Great Spirit saw what a good artist the boy was, He gave the boy a handful of brushes that had beautiful red paint already on them. Little Gopher began painting beautiful pictures of sunsets, and when the bristles of the brush were worn down he would throw it away and use another brush.

Every time he threw away a brush, it turned into a red flower and soon the hills were covered with the red flowers, called Indian Paintbrush. His paintings were so beautiful, the chief gave him a new name. He was no longer Little Gopher; now he was called, "He Who Brought the Sunset to Earth."

A few months ago, I decided to put some flowerpots on my balcony so I would have a wonderful, colorful garden right outside my window. I bought some pots, planting soil in them and the content of a box that said it contained 5,000 wild flower seeds.

My neighbor has planters on her balcony but she bought plants that were already blooming, and she had instant flowers. However, I feel a special joy in seeing those little green seedlings break through the soil and reach up for the sun.

I waited patiently, and then not so patiently. Finally a few little green leaves broke through the soil. According to the package of seeds I'd bought, I'd soon have hundreds of beautiful flowers.

I waited 90 days, and I now have five scraggly flowers that are pink. I have no idea of what they are, except they are "wild flowers." I still have some plants that have buds, but that doesn't mean they will ever bloom; sometimes buds just stay buds.

To say I'm disappointed is an understatement. I did every thing right. I had such high hopes, and I just didn't understand why I didn't have hundreds of flowers.

My neighbor still has Marigolds and daisies on her balcony. I was promised thousands of flowers; I have five, and they aren't pretty, and they don't smell good. I still have pots full of green plants, but I don't have much hope they will produce anything.

I wonder if God expects us to bloom where we are planted-to grow and thrive against all odds, to survive and bloom in all our glory, and to make the world more beautiful and bring joy to others. I sometimes feel like I'm a weed in God's garden, but instead of pulling me out by my roots, He keeps letting the sun shine on me, lets the rain fall on me and keeps waiting for me to bloom and be the best I can be.

I'm trying.

"Look at the field lilies . . . King Solomon in all his glory was not clothed as beautiful as they. And if God cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and gone tomorrow, won't he more surely care for you" (Matthew 6:28, 30, TLB).

Crying Wind is the author of Crying Wind, My Searching Heart, When the Stars Danced, Thunder in Our Hearts, Lightning in Our Veins and Stars in the Desert.