A Matter of Perspective: Weeds

Someone once explained to me that a weed was just a plant that was growing where someone didn’t think it should be growing.  Once Mother Nature finally gave up her grasp of winter the growing season began to hit full stride.  Everything imaginable is blooming and spreading . . . like crazy.  Here in Montana, at least in our area, we are in the midst of a growing spurt that has everything green.  Mother Nature hasn’t hit her hot flash stage yet.

I can’t keep up . . . especially with those misplaced plants that are determined to be weeds.  They are beginning to win the battle.  It is driving me crazy.  I hate to lose.

 

It started with dandelions.  I love the bright, cheerful yellow of dandelions . . . especially on a lush green carpet of grass.  It is pretty.  I also love it when they transform into little puff balls ready to spread their cheer across the rest of the lawn.  Besides their beauty they are environmentally friendly as they keep the bees happy.  Dandelions make the wife happy and that is a good thing.  On the other hand, the neighbors cry “foul”.  Foul because where I see a flower, they see a weed.

 

What is one to do?

 

I’d like to keep my wife happy.  A happy wife makes my life easier.  After all, I must live with my wife.  The neighbors only see the potential spread of a weed.  A weed that could invade their yards.  Seeing my yard, they are grumpy.  They want them all gone before the puffy whiteness rides the wind to freedom and greener pastures.

 

For this reason, I am selective in removing dandelions from the yard.  I imagine that there must be at least fifteen generations of dandelions populating the yard.  By mid-June they have been eradicated.  I pull them.  I weed whack them.  I kick them.  Crush them with rocks.  Curse them.  Despite my half-hearted best efforts . . . they still sneak in, bloom, and spread their progeny.  Varying day-to-day, someone is happy.  Someone is angry.

 

Now this is what I believe . . . if God didn’t want weeds, God wouldn’t put them where people didn’t want them.  Same with grass.  If God wanted grass to be uniformly two inches tall, God would make grass stop growing at two inches.  Same with snow in the winter.  If God didn’t want snow covering everything. God would only put the snow where God wanted the snow.  It’s a theological thing.  A test of faith.  God’s will.  Who am I to go against God’s will?

 

My neighbors are godless heathens who demand that I go against my beliefs and God’s will . . . they want the offensive invaders gone!

 

I must confess, I am a typical human in that I pick and choose when and where to practice my faith.  We all do.  But it is especially true for me when it comes to weeds.  Take for example our fire pit.  It is a gravel area next to a row of lilac bushes.  When completing the fire pit area I dug six inches down into the ground, spread a clothe like material to keep weeds out across it, sprayed it heavily with weed killer, and then dumped six inches of gravel over it all.  The result?  A really nice place where family and friends gather around a roaring fire for fellowship and s’mores . . . and a gathering of weeds!  Not only weeds but invasive lilac sprouts popping up like a checkerboard in the gravel.  For being faithless and wanting a weed-free fire pit, my penance is to crawl around the gravel on my knees removing the offenders.  I imagine God just smiles while pointing out the ones that I have missed.

 

Weeds are sneaky little (and big) boogers.  They rise to any and every challenge to taunt me whenever and wherever they can.  Cracks in the sidewalk.  In the flower beds.  On the driveway.  Under the deck.  Even under the bird feeders.  Under the bird feeders is its own hellacious challenge.

 

Under the bird feeders there grow thistles and other unidentifiable seeds that make up the daily buffet for our avian friends.  But it is the sunflowers that are growing that are the biggest test of my patience.  Ooooo . . . sunflowers!  They are so pretty.  Yes, they are . . . but not growing all over the lawn.  Luckily, I can keep them mowed.  By September there will be a cheap imitation of a Monet painting, but it will be the yard.

 

At this point in the summer, it is an even battle.  The score is zero to zero.  But it won’t last long.  The cottonwood seeds are floating in the air.  Mother Nature has turned up the heat to speed up the growing season.  The weeds have called up reinforcements.  Once sneaky, they are now bold.  Popping up everywhere.  They are beginning to sustain a drive towards victory and domination.  I can barely catch my breath.  I’m thinking about becoming faithful once again and letting them win.  Back to nature stuff.  At least the grass looks green . . . from a distance anyways.  Image is what counts . . . image is what matters.  Plus, God will quit snickering at me as I return to the fold.  The problem is the weeds or plants that are out of place—it is not them; it is me.  My perspective.  Maybe I am the one who is not where I am supposed to be.

 

It is something to consider.  After all, all God’s critters (and plants) have a place in the choir.  Weeds are in the eyes of the beholder.  Yeah, I know . . . my neighbors don’t buy it.  Oh well . . .

 

It is What It is . . . Yucky

Maybe it was his youthful ignorance or innocence, but I have always admired the spunkiness and stick-to-it-ness of the boy who was determined to point out that the emperor was naked in Hans Christian Andersen’s retelling of the folktale, The Emperor’s New Clothes.  The story is about an emperor’s obsession with fancy new clothes who gets taken in a scam by two con men.  The monarch hires them to create a whole new wardrobe of magnificent clothing that is invisible in the eyes of those who are incompetent or stupid.  The emperor leads the ranks as everyone else pretends to see what was not there in fear of reprisal by the emperor.

That is until one day when the emperor decides to have a parade through the kingdom to show off his new clothes.  They were elegant, but invisible, and he sought the admiration of his people.  As the parade begins the people keep their mouths shut as the emperor is strutting his stuff in all his glory . . . except for one young boy who pipes up that the emperor is naked.  Of course, people attempt to hush the child, but the nakedness was too much to witness.  Soon all the people were proclaiming that the emperor was wearing no clothes.

 

The emperor suspected they were right . . . but he went on with his parade.

 

The boy had the courage to speak up . . . to point out the truth.  Children have an honest truthfulness about them.  They are not afraid to state the obvious.  At least until we adults beat it out of them.  We need such honest truthfulness today.  What we really need is to listen.  It is there, but for some reason we are turning our heads away from it for whatever reasons we embrace . . . most likely fear.  The truth is there, yet we are unwilling to embrace it.  Instead, we sell our souls down the river.

 

It probably doesn’t take a degree in rocket science to know what I am alluding to.  It is the current situation in our nation’s political realm.  They are a mess . . . a real circus . . . a regular oppo show.  There is a craziness engulfing our nation’s current politics as we enter a presidential election year.  Two geriatric individuals are going to be our choices.  Neither is ideal.  Both have been president—one currently, one previously.  Noth have shown blips on the mental competency scales raising questions about their mental acuity.  As I said, neither one is an ideal candidate—but no one is willing to point out that neither has any new clothes.  The lines have been drawn.  It doesn’t look pretty.

 

We need to listen to the children.

 

 

Given the projected choices for the upcoming presidential election, I’m leaning heavily towards voting to save our freedoms as a nation . . . I’m leaning towards the one calling for civility and working together for everyone, not just one’s political party or cronies.  Though not the ideal choice, it is way better than the other choice.

 

Yet it is going to be close.

 

The emperor is still parading around buck naked despite that that nakedness is being exposed.  Why are so many turning their heads and looking the other way?  This is what I cannot understand.

 

Again, no degree in rocket science is needed to know that I am referring to Donald Trump.  The man and all that he represents is despicable.  His actions of a lifetime have exposed him to the person he really is.  It is all out there for public consumption. It is in plain sight for all to see.  His track record conveys who despicable he truly is.  Some would even describe him as evil.  And he knows it.  Good or bad, he loves the attention.  A child would say, “He’s yucky!”

 

His record—all out for public view—speaks for itself.  It exposes him for who he is . . . for what he stands for and represents.  The wannabe emperor is exposed.  He is naked.  How can we stand by and ignore what we see with our own eyes?  Especially those of us who proclaim to be moral people . . . proclaim to be people of faith . . . who call ourselves good people?  Why are we willing to throw away our morals, faith, and decency to blindly follow someone who is . . . well, yucky?

 

The emperor has no clothes—Trump is yucky.  He does not stand morality.  He does not stand for anything that resembles faith beyond himself—a self-declared savior sent from God to save our nation.  Well, that is not a god I could embrace, believe in, and dedicate my life to following.  He is vindictive.  He is mean.  He lies. He cheats.  He bullies.  He hates.  He is self-centered.  He doesn’t care (at least not for anyone beyond himself).

 

For me, when it comes to Donald Trump, it can be summed up in that quote from the movie, A Knight’s Tale.  After having defeated his protagonist in a joust, the victorious knight leans over the fallen loser and declares: “You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting.”  This phrase is biblical in origin--the tale of Belshazzar’s, the king of Babylon, feast in the Book of Daniel.  Holding a feast to boast his power, Belshazzar drinks from goblets looted from the Jewish Temple.  This makes God angry, and upon the walls a ghostly message is written: “Mene mene tokel upharsin.”  No one could interpret the words except for Daniel, who told the king that they meant, “Weighed, weighed in the balance and found lacking.”  This signifies that he would lose his kingdom for his arrogance.

 

Trump is lacking.

 

Over and over the children have declared Trump’s “nakedness”.  His life’s record speaks for itself.  We have witnessed it with our own eyes.  He is yucky.  I can no longer participate in this charade if I am going to be a person of morals . . . a person of faith . . . a decent human being.  To look the other way is to betray myself, my family and friends, and especially the God who would never, ever put up with such garbage as Trump wallows in. 

 

Though it will make some be mean-spirited and nasty towards me, I cannot sit idly by proclaiming that Donal Trump is God’s savior sent to save our nation.  He is not.  He will destroy all that we hold sacred as a nation and as individuals.  He is naked.  He has been weighed.  He has been measured.  He is found lacking.  He is yucky.  I am sorry, but it is all there for anyone to see.  He is naked.  We can do better.  We really can . . . if we want to.  That is my quandary, why don’t we want to do better?  In a nation of approximately 332 million people . . . is this the best we can do in this election?  I am sure I am not the only one who wants to know . . . on either side.