Bluebells

    It seemed they grew every summer when I was growing up. The thin lavender flowers with bell-

like blossoms covered our backyard in rural Summertown, TN. There was something magical about

those little flowers. Maybe it was the splash of color. Maybe it was the possibility of presenting a

bouquet of them to Mom for the kitchen table. Maybe it was the fact that they represent those long

ago carefree summer evenings spent with my brother and cousin rolling down the hill behind our home,

oblivious to the insects and parasites; following the lawn mower and raking up the mowed grass to use

for pretend “hay;” and running among the bluebells. Those evenings ended with a good bath and a

night of sound sleep, anticipating another day of carefree adventures. Whatever the reason, I loved

those bluebells. They were as beautiful to me as the most exquisite rosebush.

    My family had lots of fun during the summers with family vacations and get-togethers, but they

were no more fun to me than those carefree summer evenings of imaginative play.

I remember one summer when I noticed my dad mowing down those bluebells. I was heartsick,

angry and hurt that he would cut down such a beautiful flower. When I confronted him about it, he

replied that they were “just weeds.” I disagreed, and moped about it for awhile. Then some distraction

came along and the carefree summer continued.

    I'm almost thirty now, and carefree summers are a thing of the past. I still live on the property of

my childhood, although in a different home. Although a few bluebells have appeared over the years,

they have never come back as abundantly as they did all those years ago. I have more important things

to do than enjoy them if they did come back. Some days, however, I think back to those carefree days.

I still wonder what it was about that captivated me about those lowly yet beautiful objects of God's creation, yet I have no doubt that they now represent that part of my childhood when everything seemed right with the world. I like to believe that somewhere in my heart, there is still a place where that childlike wonder still exists, where that excitement over God's creation still permeates my being. I hope to share this wonder with children of my own someday; this world of excitement and laughter and a backyard full of bluebells.