“We have to stop NOW, Mom.”
The urgent plea came as I searched for a safe place to pull over alongside the highway. Once again, there would be no time to find a suitable exit. An air of annoyance filled the car along with a sense we truly might not ever get to our destination at this pace, as this would be the 4th stop in less than 6 hours.
The second the van door opened, Luke hopped out desperately. He didn’t look to see if other cars or people were present. He didn’t wait for permission or instruction. He simply hopped out and did what desperate little boys do when they can’t get to the bathroom. For a moment, I chuckled inside thinking of all the times I’ve seen a little boy do such a thing with no real concern for the societal demands of a formal restroom.
But the inner chuckle quickly welled up into tears as I watched him. There was no ignoring the truth. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. He was nearly 8. And the need for this stop was one of several lingering signs that his body would never again be the same after cancer. In this moment, it was hard to watch him deal with things none of us will ever understand this side of heaven. It was hard to help the others find compassion when they couldn’t fathom it either. But mostly it was hard to be the mama bear who has learned the hard way that protecting her cubs isn’t always within reach.
The highway itself wasn’t major and I needed to stretch my legs, so I called for everyone to get out and walk a little. The fresh air and warmth of sunshine would make our detour a little more joyful. Tall green blades of grass swayed in the breeze as we looked out over the pastures and farms in the distance.
Luke picked up a dandelion puff and called to me. “Mom, make a wish.”
I smiled as he blew the white wispy petals through the air into my hair and onto my clothing. He closed his eyes when the stem grew bare and sighed.
“I wished for the bakery.”
His words swelled a sweetness in my heart that couldn’t be contained or explained. I watched in awe as the petals fell to the ground. The bakery? It was hard to fathom his fondness for the very place we visited in an attempt to keep our minds off of medical tests. It was a tradition of sorts only “celebrated” after each MRI. An event most consider to be full of anxiety and potential dread as doctors image the brain tumor for updates, my sweet boy finds the post-MRI bakery pure joy.
The imagery of the dandelion in his hand wasn’t lost on me.
As beautiful as it seems to children, the dandelion puff is a weed plucked out and despised by the gardener. Its yellow flowers are not a joy, but a despised “thorn.” The white puff itself is a sign of death as it’s the final stage of the flower. Truly, the whole dandelion plant is a curse to the pristine grass most people so desperately try to grow around it.
And yet, in its own way, the dandelion is beautiful. In its own way, it reminds us to hope in the Lord as those little wispy petals fall.
That in itself would be enough to make it cherished, but there’s more. Despite its curse to the ground, the dandelion has powerful medicinal uses. That is, if you can stomach its extremely bitter taste.
I couldn’t help but think how similar the dandelion is to cancer and ALL of the trials we face here on earth. It’s not something you EVER would plant in your garden. In fact, it’s something you fight desperately to rid yourself of and yet even with its bitter taste, it’s something beautiful, medicinal… even healing.
Healing to you and healing to everyone blessed enough to be in the path when you blow its wispy petals of hope. The beauty of its healing is contagious. As you share through the bitterness of life’s dandelion “thorns,” you can’t help but bring joy into the lives of those around you.
You know, it’s often said that the greatest mystery in life is understanding the purpose of suffering, evil, and sadness when God is so good. I must admit this hardly seems a mystery at all. Anyone blessed enough to find a dandelion in their path has learned the truth about its bitterness.
It’s actually through the suffering, evil and sadness we see clearly just how good God really is. It’s through the unwanted weeds and thorns in our lives where we find sweet fellowship with the Lord and hope that endures all things. Truly, it’s only through the alleged “curse” of the dandelion (insert your own flavor here) that we can truly experience the depth of God’s goodness.
As I watched Luke hold the dandelion that day, I saw so much more than a little boy plagued by urinary urgency from 15 months of chemo. I saw a boy who purposed to blow petals of hope and faith on anyone willing to get close enough to share their beauty. A boy who never once saw the bitter dandelion thorn of cancer as something he was trying to get rid of, but something that brought him great joy, peace and faith even in the pain.
Lessons learned from the dandelion thorns in life
Just as a dandelion will grow anywhere (even in a crack in the sidewalk) and under any circumstances, as Christians, we too can grow and bloom wherever God plants us.
The word dandelion, meaning lion’s tooth, is fitting not just for this flower that grows under any circumstances, it reminds us to never give up the fight of faith.
Like the dandelion, some things in life can only be learned through the pruning or dying of treasured dreams. Sure those yellow petals were beautiful, but we would never experience the sheer pleasure and joy of blowing that white puff into the glistening sun if the plant hadn’t died.
As those around us watch us blow the wispy petals of life’s bitter, unwanted pruning, God puts a new song in our mouth so that many will see His faithfulness and trust in Him. (Psalm 40:3)
As Christians, we should have roots like the dandelion, so deep and persistent, even when someone tries to pluck us up, they fail. No matter what happens to us, we will always grow back stronger because our roots of faith can NOT be damaged.
Some things in life taste bitter like the dandelion, and yet at the same time provide for us the deepest of healing.
And finally, a lesson from Luke: When you can’t hope for the thing your heart really desires, find something beautiful in the midst of the pain and let its beauty fill your heart. This, my friend, is the deepest, most rewarding kind of joy and it all starts with right thinking about the goodness of God.
Are you a member of the Not Consumed Community? One of the many perks of joining us is our monthly Scripture Printables like this one below on the topic of praise. I pray the dandelions will remind you of the goodness of God and the hope we have in Jesus, no matter what kind of dandelion thorns are in your life today.
To sign up for the Not Consumed Community and gain access to inspiring printables like this, click the image below.
Tina says
This is beautiful in every way. I am in deep grief, navigating the emotions stemming from great losses and this story is another piece on my healing journey. Thank you, deeply. Prayers for continued blessings to you and your family ?
Alisha says
The openness with which you share your precious family’s journey is beautiful. Many prayers for continued healing of your sweet little boy.
Kathy A. says
I enjoyed your story of a need for a sudden stop; I think most mothers have made them, too. I had a friend who called dandelions “God’s favorite flowers…they must be, He made so many of them. If your car is big enough for Luke to manuever a urinal (about $2 at a drugstore) enroute or even a can with a snap on lid, and enough privacy, you may be able to alleviate that need for a sudden, maybe unsafe stop and alleviate his anxiety as he can be responsible for himself. Give him a hug from all of us who follow your stories.
Amanda says
Amazing. Beautiful. Touching. ?God is so good! And you, my friend, may have so many reasons to give up and quit, but WOW the grace that God has given and continues to give you. Blessed is what you are! Thank you for the encouragement! You are one loved lady! I will never look at a dandelion the same way.
JJ Klein says
You are so dang lovely, Kim…continuing to pray for Luke, and for you as you mother him and the rest of the gang through this uncharted territory. JESUS plus nothing equals everything…xoxo
Lora Lee H Lee says
This is so beautiful and enlightening. I wish that every ine who is going through a difficult season in their life can read this, because it will giv e so much hope and faith in the goodness of God
Donna Keplinger says
Thank you so much for this beautiful Story. I so love reading how your faith has taken you through so much. My oldest daughter was brought back to God by reading your stories as she fought breast cancer. Reading your stories has helped her and me to have a stronger faith in God. I don’t home school because all my children are grown up but I read everything you write. God Bless you and your family.
Evalena says
As a older mother of five almost all adult children now. My heart was clinging reading your story. First the laughter of days gone by when you mentioned the van stop and the urgent potty break. We had many of those days traveling. So my smile came. Then the hurt and empathy for you as we to experienced a very similar life shaking experience with one of our children. Then when you spoke of the dandelion my mind immediately went to no no way more than a weed EVERY PART IS HEALING!!! LoL then I saw reading further you already had that knowledge as well. What beautiful analogies you made for us all to ponder. Thank You and we to will be praying for our God is Mighty!!!!
Michelle says
Thank you for sharing your heart and thoughts as you go through something no one would ever wish upon themselves…a precious child with cancer. Thank you for reminding us of how God uses the trials to grow us in our faith and in our relationship with Him! Isn’t it awesome how He places object lessons all around us! I am encouraged. ?
Karen says
As a cancer mom too, I couldn’t help but “shudder” when I started reading about the dandelion story. Our son’s cancer side effect was compared to a dandelion and how it’s blown from here to there. So, I have not been fond of dandelions. But.
Your story brought me new clarification and new reason and new hope.
My son’s date of diagnosis “ironically” is June 1, 2012. Yes. Tomorrow.
But.
We’re celebrating almost three years cancer free.
God is good. In whatever circumstance.
Cathie Best says
My journey and gut punches are very different than yours – it’s my own very aggressive cancer that (unless by God’s miraculous healing) we are only trying to slow down a bit. Each scan has shown progression, each dr’s appointment has been how to best manage the new complications caused by where the cancer has metastisized to or whether chemo/treatment can take place or whether we need new game plan….and today was no different. My oldest daughter goes with me so we process things on the way back, then have to catch the rest of the immediate family up when we get home and then try to figure out how to package the news out to friends and extended family and church family. I opened facebook to see if I could start a post and found this whole piece on the dandelions….it’s all I wanted to say to others, but put in such a beautiful word picture that I just have to ask if I could quote whole parts of it to express how my and my family experience God through this tough journey. I’d like to do that acknowledging the source because that also, to me, shows so many facets of God’s provision and care He is taking of me through this in giving me – in such perfect timing – comfort, encouragement and assitance in furthering others seeing the God I know and want them to know. Thank you for such sharing such personal insights and experiences to so many, and please let me know if I can share with more – either by sharing of the full post or by sharing extracts as they fit in my missives, again giving credit of source, with the whole purpose of encouraging and gently nudging others in their own relationship with our great and loving God. Either way, thank you for the lift this gave me after a tough day at the dr’s today!
Kim Sorgius says
Hi Cathie,
You are welcome to quote parts of this and then share a link back to the post where they can read the entire story. Praying with you!
Sarah H says
Thank you so much for this beautiful post. My family and I are just beginning a very trying season (that seems so small when compared to what you and poor Luke are going through!). And I have been having a very hard time since the diagnosis pulling myself out of my “funk.” But your post is exactly what I needed to hear! I have already printed the the scripture to hang around my house to remind me of the beautiful dandelions and your lovely post. I have been a reader since before Luke’s diagnosis and my family will continue to pray for your’s. You are all an inspiration!!! Thank you so much!!!
Deb Stanley says
Beautiful thoughts. You are such an encourager. Blessings.