Hope Dealer
Wishes made on a piece of nothingness others tend to walk on and smush. The wondrous walk in the wild flowers.
The body of a fragile dandelion lying in a field, identical to all the others.
Grown from the same seed, scattered from the same wind that carried it to its destination, watered with the same dirty rainfall from the storm the night prior.
Attached to the same soil, sprung up from the same sunlight as all the others.
The simple, silly heart of a child that comes along on a summer day and selects the very one that sparkles, then catches the eye of its beholder holds the key to where its wishes will fly once it has been blown.
Each seed seated in the heart of the flower, a hope, a gust of spirit brought forth and sprinkled among the sky.
Each one, the same yet different in the heart of a child.
It’s inner beauty hidden amongst the weeds that are traditionally walked upon and seen as debris.
Tossed aside, obliterated in a lawnmower, or stomped into the dirt never given a second thought.
A child sees the weed as a wish giver.
A dealer of hope.
Similar to the gust of dreams blown when the flames of a candle on their birthday cake are extinguished, a dandelion holds those tightly until it is plucked and then valued by the plucker.
What characteristic stood out to the child to make them select that specific flower?
Was it taller? Did it hold more petals? Did the dew drops glisten in the sunlight brighter than the one growing next to it?
Had it weathered a stronger storm than the one they passed on the way to discover the next one?
Was it a few petals shy of filling its heart completely?
Holding the withered stem that weakens as soon as it is chosen, a dream, a thought, a wish is envisioned in the child’s mind.
A beautiful soul swaying in the breeze. The heart of a mother that breaks when a flower is plucked before it’s time. Yet to be bloomed in the most wondrous of sunshine. Rebirth and replanted once it has been selected.
The wildest of the wildflowers beautifying the ugly world with their innocence, a dealer of hope for the awfulness the world surrounds them with.
Making its exquisiteness a rare find. A whimiscal free-spirited soul, in a field of weeds. A love like no other that gives without expectation, a heart as golden as the flowers that surround them.
Next time you find yourself passing a field of wildflowers stop and enjoy the splendor and ravishing wonder of God’s creations. For the Hope Dealer will soon pluck them and all that will remain will be the remembrance of the scent, the sparkle in the glistening reflection of what you planted, and the hope that radiates in the memory of the moments you share.
In loving memory of my wildflower plucked too soon. Her footprints will forever live on in the souls of every heart that knows her.
Emily Brooke Shuck
January 29 2005- December 28 2023
The most beautiful flower in God’s garden.
