I grew up in a small town not far from where the Hubs and I live now.
Our large family lived in a big old house. Our neighbor on one side was an “old maid”, (as we used to call unmarried ladies), who lived in an immaculate older home, and a young couple in a new ranch-style home lived on the other side. Both neighbors had immaculate yards with beautiful landscaping and flowers, while ours was more of a grass/weed mix that we kept mowed down to an acceptable level. Mama and Daddy’s money was spent clothing and feeding us seven kids, not on flowers and plants and landscaping. But, sandwiched between our house and the ancient sidewalk that led to our backyard, a patch of bluebells grew. Since they grew there seemingly of their own accord, Mama insisted they were just weeds, but in my heart I knew better. I knew they were flowers.
Not long ago I decided to try my hand at painting. As is my personality, I jumped in with both feet, not knowing anything about it. I bought canvas, brushes and acrylic paints and just decided to have fun and try. On my third attempt at painting, I felt God speak to my heart about the bluebells. He said, there is someone who thinks of herself as a weed, others may have even told her that she is a weed, but you are to paint the bluebells for her, to remind her that she is truly a flower. And so I did. I gave her the painting, explaining what God had said to me. Since then, I painted the bluebells again. This one for me…so I’ll remember the lesson of the bluebells as well. Now, I share the story with you, so you’ll remember. You are not a weed, you are His flower.