Dandelions and cow parsley

Today is the feast of St Thérèse of the Child Jesus. I didn’t appreciate her ‘Little Way’ very much, until I realised that the hidden, everyday works of love were the way for me as well. Big ascetic or evangelical dreams (self-saving and world-saving) yielded to practical realities: caring for babies, tying children’s shoes, marking essays. Yet I resisted the little way for a long time.

And then I read John Swinton‘s book, Becoming Friends of Time. Not because I thought it would do me good, but because I was asked to review it. (I would have read it anyway, but maybe not yet…) Finally, after being the mother of a girl with Down Syndrome for fifteen years, it dawned on me that maybe I didn’t have to convince Anna to go faster. Maybe I needed to slow down.

Easier said than done. A good starting place (I’ve not got beyond the starting place, really) has been walking Anna to school or home from school. Hurrying is not an option. The conversation often flags, and other times consists mostly of free association—Anna talking about movie after movie as each character reminds her of another. It’s not really about conveying information as much as it is about being together.

Along the way, however, I’ve learned some things about my daughter I might not ever have known. Like, she really likes ‘cow parsley’ (which I think is the same as Queen Anne’s Lace, but I wouldn’t swear to that). She looks forward to seeing it every spring. Her other favourite flower is a dandelion. She also knows about violets and lemon thyme. We don’t see those often, but she points hopefully to likely suspects and asks.

Walking slowly, talking about not much, noticing the change of seasons. That’s what we do. I have begun to notice how Anna’s ‘Little Way’ is like the way mapped out by St Thérèse: she forgives all, loves without reserve, never complains. She may not always understand, but she always listens. She points out the cow parsley and is thrilled to see dandelions. She dances like nobody’s watching. There is a freedom in her that is rare and precious, and a love that never fails.

So on this feast of the ‘Little Flower’, I thank God for my own little flower, who blooms in and out of season and brings light to my often troubled soul.

Deo gratias.

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