Weeds are Flowers Too

I like to breathe in this air deep and beautiful. Like the inhale of a fresh start. This air that’s warm because the sun tosses kisses into the atmosphere, but is cold because the wind whispers with this gentle lullaby that’s sweet and tender. I walk outside and I don’t know whether I should wear a jacket or not. But, I’ll wear a sweater. It’s sweater weather. 

I walk this milage going in and out of buildings, and my favorite part is coming out of the shops and stores because I find this gorgeous blue sky waving me a friendly hello with the whispping clouds overhead. The wind fights for my attention. It grabs and pulls at me and sneaks inside my jacket and pulls at my sweater sleeves. My hair thrashes around me and I regret not putting it up… But it feels nice and it is joyful in the freedom. 

As always nature captures my attention. I count the variety of wildflowers I see. Some people call them weeds, but I’m reminded of a quote that was once declared in The Hundred Acre Wood, and I echo it hundreds of acres away from Pooh Bear and his friends. 

“Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them.”

Isn’t that something…


Don’t we all have weeds in our lives? These prickly stalks of substance that when rubbed against the skin of our souls make us wince. These troubles and anxieties that sprout their heads up into every aspect of our already aching lives. They come up, invited or not, and choke the life right out of our spirits.

Don’t you just wish you could pull them out? Or mow them over?

Sometimes it just isn’t that easy. We can’t always take a weed hacker to the trials of life, especially when they involve the nitty-gritty of souls. And I have a feeling God did that for a reason.

Did you ever stop to consider that God may have a reason for allowing weeds in your life?

Or that weeds can be a good thing?

If no, then I would suggest that it’s not your life that needs to change but your perspective.

This is the radical truth of a radical gospel. Weeds in our life are good and often beautiful in their own right. So much so, that God encourages us to rejoice because of them.

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” – James 1:2-4

Some weeds, though they prick and sting, often boast a beautiful blossom when all is said and done. And so even they can be a flower… once you get to know them.

And so it is when I go outside and see these weeds bountiful in our yard and I declare to my mom how wonderful they are. But my brother comes out with the mower and prepares to cut them down. I beg my mom to stop him.

“Those are just weeds”, she replies.

I don’t let her harsh words effect me. I rush outside and reap the blossoms. I gather them together into bouquets, and put them in glass vessels filled with water.

And no longer do you have to look for the beauty in them, it is evident and even my mom acknowledges how wonderful they look. She asks me to fill some jars for the kitchen.

Apparently, she has forgotten that they were weeds.

In Christ Alone~EleyanaFaith


Temple of Prayers

I call it my Narnia wardrobe… This makeshift closet.

I half expect Mr. Tumnus to walk out of it one of these days to offer me a cup of tea… And surely fairies would rejoice to dance in its shadows, and perhaps its wood came from a forest where a unicorn delighted to dwell.

I love it, this makeshift closet. We got it because this Rainier house didn’t have one for me, my bedroom being this great room off to the side. But because of this closetless room we found this piece of majestic furniture on Craigslist and we hauled it here.

It reminds me of mythical things now, and my soul delights in it because of that… Because my imagination runs wild in it.

But this wardrobe holds more precious things within its weathered wood, more precious even than a 17 year olds childlike wonderings.

This wardrobe holds a battlefield… A war ground… A throne room…

Because this wardrobe has become the temple of my prayers.

In the old house, back in California, I had put up this prayer wall next to my door. There upon sticky notes were the names of all whom I held dear. Every time I walked in and out of my bedroom I was reminded to lift them up before the Father.

Now in this Idaho house, this Rainier house that I have dubbed the House of Prayer, it only seems fitting that a wall goes up here as well, and in a special place too. And so it has.




In the morning, when the sunshine filters through my curtains I put my feet upon the floor and pull a chair next to my wardrobe. I open the door and rub the precious wood. It’s smooth, but not too smooth. I like the feel of it between my fingers.

There are notes scattered upon the door’s inside half. Some sticky notes cling to the wood with various papers and pages tacked up with the help of scotch tape. The assortment of names, requests, verses, and praises are written in different fonts, different colors, different formats…

Yes, even my prayers I like to have only orderly enough for a creative mind to follow.

There is this Psalm written boldly and it’s the first thing I reflect upon when I sit in my chair.

“For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. On God rests my salvation and my glory; my mighty rock, my refuge is God. Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.” – Psalm 62:5-8

I close my eyes and let the truth soak into my needing soul. I sit for a few moments in silence then I put my blanket over my head and bury my face in it. In this posture I bring my praises, confessions, and requests before the throne of God.

For an hour I wait upon the Lord, seeking His face before I start my day.

The sun rises behind me and it becomes brighter through the curtains. It reminds me that my night is over with the warmth of its light. It has gone out before me to lighten this day. It is strong and unfailing, bold and beautiful.

My hour is over and I must rise from my seat. I go over to the window and part the curtains. The sun comes in unfiltered and free… But it was always free, always there. It was just waiting for me to let it in unhindered.

With that I turn to face the day before me, and am reminded that God… He compares Himself to the sun.


In Christ Alone ~EleyanaFaith