DON'T SMELL LIKE A ROSE

Thank you Jake and Ruth for these photos!

Frankly, I don’t smell anything like a rose.

You won’t find delicious fruit on my stems.

The lilies in all their glory 
are more beautiful than I.

The gladiola is so tall and stately -

let’s face it I’m short and stumpy.

A bride wouldn’t be caught dead 

carrying a bouquet of my flowers.

You’ll never find me in the florist’s shop.

Actually, they call me a weed

against whom every conscientious gardener 
wages war.

Yet, I’m not ashamed to bloom;

I’m never discouraged and I refuse to hide.

I simply bloom and grow in such abundance

because my Creator planned it that way.

I am truly a gift for you.

I am the dandelion, 
taraxacum officinale my botanical name.

I’m a puffball that every child or 

child-at-heart has taken to hand

and blown to the wind.

That’s why I can grow anywhere, 

sun or shade, valleys or mountains.

I’m so thankful that wherever I am, 
is home.

I look like a mini-sun, 
full of points of light, color and warmth.

Thank you, God, for the sunlight in my life.

My nectar is sweet and inviting 
to the insect world;

the bees make delicious honey.

My leaves are a tasty, nutritious for animals 
and people alike.

Thank you, God, that I can nurture others.

My flowers are medicinal, 
being used in digestive or diet drinks;

an excellent tonic, extremely good for the blood. 

My roots can be ground into coffee 

which has a stimulating influence 
over the whole system, 

helping the liver and kidneys to do their work, 

so that it offers great advantages to dyspeptics 

and does not cause wakefulness.

Thank you, God, that I can help others heal.

Try and get rid of me; just try!

My roots are strong and go deep, 

 that’s the source of my power;

firmly grounded and rooted in a sure foundation.

Thank you, God, that I am rooted 
and grounded in You.

I’m not in love with myself,

but am constantly open to the changes 

that my Creator has planned for me.

Everything that blossoms and blooms, 

eventually ages and withers away.

I don’t worry 
about the natural process of aging,

but live as was ordained for me.

Found this on YouTube - still need to listen to it myself

Thank you, God 
for the seasons and cycle of life.

Each year I go through the seasons 
of poking my head

through the warm earth

and then dying off before the long wait of winter.

Thank you, God, that I have learned to wait upon You.

The wind is my rough, but my dearest friend.

His faithful blows into my face carry my seeds 

on little parachutes to a new life of their own.

Thank you, God, for my friends 
who bring the winds of change.

He who finds me, 

may pick me and weave garlands in wild abandon

or blow my seeds to the adventurous travel,

because my heavenly Father 
has made me to be useful

simply where I’m planted.

Thank you, God, that I may delight children

and each child-at-heart 

who sees You at work everywhere.

Karin Ristau

Loosely based on a German poem
by Helmut Herberg