WEEDS

When I was small, we had a vegetable garden. I was taught that
weeds are bad. “If you see a weed, pull it,” my Mom would say.
But, sometimes it was hard to know what was a weed and what wasn’t.

There are natural stands of scrub oak near where I work. I
often take a walk and stand in the middle of one. It has
occurred to me that every plant around me would be a weed if
it grew in someone’s garden. In the place where I stand,
though, I only see Beauty. There is a random, opportunistic
quality to natural places. If there is a square inch of sunlight
or dirt, the plants are competing to occupy it. There is
tremendous beauty in the exuberance of such places.

Gardens are beautiful, too – but in a different way. They
are somebody’s creative vision. A ‘weed’ is just something that
doesn’t belong in somebody’s vision of how things are supposed to be.

Sometimes I find myself feeling out-of-place, not enough this, too
much that. In short, I feel like a weed. When that happens, I
remind myself that even weeds are beautiful when they find their
niche. If I don’t fit someone’s vision, maybe I should move on -- No
blame, no guilt, just water finding its way home. Or maybe I should
compete for my little patch of dirt. Either way, I need to be myself,
fully and without apology.