May brings out the dandelions in our yard, as it does in any yard that is not treated. I remember when my older kids were little, and they brought dandelion bouquets in to me constantly. I used to take morning walks in a neighborhood then (since we lived on a busy highway), and instead of envying their well-manicured lawns, I always felt sorry for them. I thought it would be awful to go an entire spring without a dandelion bouquet! Now I’ve wised up some, and I secretly envy those with manicured lawns—but I would rather have dandelion bouquets than a beautiful lawn any time!
One day when my oldest three were seven, four, and two, I received multiple dandelion bouquets. It was such a special, wonderful day that I didn’t want to forget it. And I never have….because I wrote a poem about it that I like to reread every spring to remind me of that blessed, hectic, overwhelming time in my life. I hope it blesses you!
“Dandelions for Mother”
I heard the sound one afternoon, a noise I couldn’t deny–
“Mama,” she squealed in her sweet voice–my toddler’s ”I want in” cry.
I made my way to the back door, where she stood with a dandelion bunch,
“In,” she said as I opened the door, with a smile that expressed so much.
“For you,” she beamed proudly, holding in her hand—a wilty dandelion prize
I hugged her as she gave them to me; then she scampered back outside.
That sure was quick I thought to myself, and I turned to go back to my chores,
I put them in a vase, as my centerpiece—I didn’t know there would soon be more!
“Oh Mother,” I heard another sweet voice and someone opened up the large back screen;
It was my four-year-old, smiling from ear-to-ear, like the two-year-old I had just seen.
Her hands behind her back, she gleefully said, “I have a present for you!”
I held out my arms and closed my eyes, the way she always wanted me to do.
“Surprise,” she shouted, “I picked them for you because I love you so much!”
I acted astonished, as she handed me– a second dandelion bunch.
I got a quick hug (four year olds are busy, you know), then she went on her way,
I put them in a vase on the table; two centerpieces in one short day.
The next thing I knew the four-year-old was back, her hands so full once again,
“I brought these from brother; he’s guarding our fort, so now, he can’t come in.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I replied to my little dear, “how thoughtfully you share,”
“Come over here to mama’s arms; let’s rock in my big blue chair.”
“Sorry,” she said, “we’re fighting the battle—the Philistines are ‘bout to attack.”
“Brother told me to give these to you, then be sure that I come right back.”
She bounced out the door like a summer breeze, and tenderly blew me a kiss-
A sweet, long-distance one–to replace the rocking she knew I would miss.
I got out a third vase and filled it with water and put in the brand new flow’rs.
What more could a mother ask for—-three bouquets within the hour!
I always love to receive some flowers—as so many women do,
A vase filled with roses or carnations—or perhaps a plant or two.
I’d wait for each special occasion, with my hopes built up so high.
Would the florist come to my house today–or would he pass me by?
How silly I finally thought to myself; to wait for the florist’s van,
I’ve gotten flowers every single day—since well before spring began.
And how wonderful these dandelions are—delivered by special hands,
Brightening my life every spring day—as only small children can.
And right at that moment, I realized, how vast are the endless joys,
That come with being called “Mother” by these precious girls and boy.
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