Forty years later and the Purple Flower Man

On March 30, 2008, I wrote:

Our home is built in the middle of a pasture and our “lawn” is nothing more than pasture growth cut down to lawn height. So we have a varied mix of grasses and weeds (mostly the latter).

There is nothing like the first signs of Spring. The first displays of color are exciting to me, even if it does mean that the workload is about to double with outside chores. One of the first colors to appear in our yard is purple. And the first sprouts of purple bring a glimpse of what is yet to come. I start to pay attention to all the new signs of Spring as the birds search for places to nest and the flowers and trees begin to bud with new growth and then…aargh…the purple flowers, I have been told are called “hen bit,” are now these huge dark clumps all over my yard, interspersed with big clumps of green against the backdrop of what has not yet greened out.

What, just a few weeks ago I saw as a sign of new life springing forth, I now saw as an unsightly mess that needed to be cleaned up. And so with excitement, I began, what would soon become the dreaded chore and what has become equal to the season of Spring…"mowing season." I wanted to clean up the mess.

But under the “mess” would lay a very special surprise. Under the hen bit were the tiniest of delicate purple flowers. They, too, are probably considered a weed in these parts, but to this old soul, they are a reminder of God’s wooing grace.

I was about ten and a child who lived in a world where few had the time of day to give to me. I had been sent to camp for a week, much to my lonely and antisocial dismay. There was a scavenger hunt and off I went, alone, with my list, searching for the items. On the list was “a purple flower.” I had found everything on the list except for that and was wandering along a path when an old man (he was probably about my age, now) with gray hair came up to me and asked how I was doing. I explained that I had it all but the purple flower, knowing, from all of my other life experiences, that it probably wasn’t important to him. But what happened next would leave a forever mark on my heart.

I remember him and me; down on our knees as he raked the leaves back with his hands and revealed a tiny delicate purple flower. He looked up at me and smiled as if he had found life’s greatest treasure and said to me, “they didn’t say how big it had to be, did they?”

In that moment, I experienced, in a powerful way, what I would come to know, to be God’s grace. Someone took the time, cared enough to stop along the way, to help me, insignificant me, find a purple flower. And it wasn’t even easy to do.

Sometimes we never know how the smallest of actions or a few minutes of our time, stopping along the way, can impact a person. I’m sure the man whom I only remember as “the purple flower man” never dreamed that in that small instant of time he would make such a huge impact on that young girl. Time was something that too few could give. When I picture God’s wooing grace in my life, the purple flower man is one of the first pictures that come to mind. You see, he gave me something I had not experienced. He took the time to care and walk with me along the way. He got his hands dirty to help me find the hidden treasure.

Is that not what happens with God’s grace in our lives? It gives us an example, a reason to take the time to care, to walk with others along the way, to sometimes get our hands dirty to help others find the hidden treasure of God buried underneath the filth?

As I mowed, more and more of the tiny purple flowers came to light and it seemed as if the yard was carpeted with them. And my heart was filled with a deep sense of joy as I thought back to the purple flower man. I felt a deep sense of wonder as I saw the multitude of the tiny purple flowers. They were such a blessing to my soul. Sometimes, we never really know if we make a difference in people’s lives. I’m sure the purple flower man didn’t know what a powerful symbol of God’s grace he would become to me and that over 40 years later I would still have that moment etched in my heart.

Sometimes we walk with Jesus, unaware and other times we are the hands, feet and heart of Jesus, unaware. A simple flower, a simple act, a lifetime of influence. For those who stop along the way and give the time of simple acts of kindness filled with God’s grace…those are God’s glory! God give me the wisdom to be more like them!

Lynn