My Faith Is...

My daughter attended a Catholic high school.  There, she had some wonderful theology teachers; women who taught faith more than dogma.  One day she came home with a novel assignment.  Fill in the following:

My faith is a(n):  (type of plant)

Now, I have no idea what answer Kate came up with, but I remember my answer well.  It took me a week or so of pondering before I came up with it, and it comes back to mind each spring as the flowers bloom.

My faith is a dandelion.

I've always rather liked dandelions.  I realize this is not the world's most popular stance.  When I had my house, mine was one of the few in the neighborhood where the lawn would be brightly spotted yellow in the springtime.  (For a couple of years I had a sign in the yard when they bloomed:  "Dandelion Refuge".)

Like my faith, they pop up where they're least expected, whether or not they've been invited in.  They're a little raggedy around the edges. 

My head knows they're pesky weeds.  My heart doesn't agree in the slightest (even as I pull them up when they grow where I don't want them to be).  They're bright and cheerful.  They provide food for bees and bunnies - and people, if you pick the greens when they're young and tender.  They grow in the concrete desert of the city, poking their heads up through the cracks, defiantly yellow, proclaiming to the world, "I am here!".

Like the dandelions, my faith is a bit unconventional; even unwelcome in some circles.  But it persists in spite of 'them'.  It sprouts even as I fear I am alone and lost and there is no reason for anything in this world.  "I am here - you are NOT alone!"

Happy Easter!