My daughter loves to pick bouquets of whatever flowers I permit her to pick, then bring them to me in a fistful of love. Here is one she picked today. There are several weeds I don't know the name of (some sort of campanula and something else), a bindweed blossom, and some dandelion seed heads with the fluff blown off. There are still roots attached to the campanula-type flower. It would never fly in a "real" bouquet, but it hardly matters. "I picked zis bouquet for you, Mama!" she says, thrusting them at me.
Several women in my extended network are dealing with major, sad life issues. Two are nearing the birth of babies with birth-defects. One of the infants will probably be fine after etensive surgery; the other will not make it long after birth. Another mother is divorcing her husband after discovering infidelities. Yet another has to get oral surgery on her three year old.
Daily I feel so deeply blessed for my child. For weed bouquets and bugs she's saved from the pond, for her delight at our finding a cicada and her pride at picking radishes from the garden. When I feel the weight of the world, it is to nature - the land and my wild child - that I turn. I give thanks.
I send blessings to my friends and to all other mothers facing daily and unthinkable challenges both. May the Earth beneath you be a stregth and a solace.
Amen.
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