There are these little yellow flowers that always seem to grow near pavement. They are very exceptionally yellow too. Not a polite buttercup hue to be nice. Not a dandelion gentility. No. Yellow with startling conviction. Yellow with abandon. Yellow like post-it notes and Beyonce had a baby. Lemonade, without a fleck of orange or cream identity crisis.
And they grow next to side walks. Of all places.
I would grow under a tree, if I was going to grow somewhere wild. Or maybe in an open field if the grass wasn’t too tall. But these odd ducks with their rangey ground-crawling stems, thistle-bristled leaves, and impossibly balletic blossoms meander toward the cracks in pavement.
This is the sort of thing that makes you wonder “Why” if you’re paying attention.
If you feel like your life is a bit hot and dry and cracked, pushed up in strange places by unfortunate roots that wormed their way into your story… if you feel that maybe you are bleached white, stuck in place, crumbling around the edges… like a bit of a bad sidewalk… then you walk a little slower and look and mutter, “Hmm?”
I paid attention to those wee flowers. I thought about them as I paced toward home.
There must be a practical explanation. Yellow flowers need a reason to love sidewalks. Sidewalks aren’t particularly lovable on their own.
They must grow here because we cut down all the trees to pave this road?
They must grow here because the landscape is weirdly obliterated of all it’s natural beauty… but it let’s the sun get in.
They must grow here because in a parched and weary land, they remembered to look up. To spot the light and draw life.
They must grow here because God just can’t help himself! He’s always sneaking resurrection stories into everything. Love, if you’re listening.
I’m not sure God ever exactly meant for people to slice giant asphalt highways through the earth. Maybe he likes them? I could imagine a God who likes fast cars. Or maybe he would prefer we walked a bit more gently? As if in a garden. That was the original blue print, right? I don’t have any sense of conviction on this. It’s probably both… but here is something I really believe: Whatever happens, there will spring up yellow flowers. And they are a sign of infinite mercy. A good sense of humor. A lot of patience.