The Daisy Grows With the Weeds

by | Jun 9, 1998 | Beauty, Trials

The silhouette of the house at the end of the block stood stark against the peach cream sky. The sun was just about to set. An old man’s brown sun tanned hands reached down to pull out of the soil another group of weeds. Little fresh smooth new fingers reached not far beyond to pluck a smaller bunch.

“Grampa, why does God let weeds grow? Why did he make them anyway?” The little boy gathered his refuse and placed it in the trash container.

The old man eyed his Grandson and stood up straight and arched his back, suddenly aware of an ache. “Well, I used to wonder about that too. He pondered the thought. I guess it’s so we’ll appreciate the flowers…so we won’t take things for granted.

The smaller version of the man arched his own back working out an imaginary ache of his own. “God knows everything doesn’t He?”

“Yes, he does. He knows everything that can be known, I guess.” “

He knows the future? Sam sat cross legged on the grass.”

“Yes, son He does. Grampa squatted down to look into little eyes. “He knows all about our lives, even before He opened the heavens.”

“Then before He made each person He knew whether or not the person would go to heaven or hell?” Sam pensively blew on the petals of a daisy. His Grandpa watched the sight.

“I guess He does.”

“Then why does He make the ones that won’t accept Jesus and go to heaven? If He’s a good God why does He want to see some people burn in a bad place?”

Sam carefully removed a weed close to a bloom. “I don’t know, son.”

The setting sun blinked it’s last ray and sank below the earths rim.

“Lets go to see if Grandma has got a little dinner on the table for us? Pullin’ weeds can take a lot of energy, huh?”

“Sure can.” Sam dusted the dark granules off his shorts. Grampa watched as the little boy made his way around the porch and up the gray chipped concrete stairs leading to the back door.

“Kids can really think up some humdingers. Yes, some humdingers.”

“Slow down Sam it’s still gonna be there in a few minutes. “

Gramma placed a fresh napkin next to her grandson’s plate. “Apple pie is good Gram.”

“Thank you Sam.”

“Gramma, some of the kids are going to the fair later. Can I go, I have my own money? “Oh Sammy I don’t know. That’s a big event for us. She now picks up the fresh napkin to just catch a slipping piece of pie off little lips. “I mean can I go with Ralph? I’m 9 now and Ralph’s Mom is letting him go, he’s the same age.”

“Well, you know what I think about that. Is she going too?”

“She’s working at one of the booths. Ralph’s big brother is going.” His big brown eyes accentuated his Gram’s big heart.

“I never met his big brother. Well, if she’s going to watch out for you then It’s okay. I’ll call her. “She looks at Grampa, he nods.

“Don’t get into trouble. I guess it’s a safe enough fair, if big brother is going. You be careful on those big rides.”

Brightly colored horses bobbed to the tune “Pop Goes the Weasel” as little faces shined full of joyful traces. The hooters calling for customers to take their chances at the games of skill filled the air. “How ’bout you Mister? Win a prize for the lady?” Screams and giggles rode high atop the waves of sound and added to the delight. Bright balloons filled with helium floated on the wrist of each child as he roamed aimlessly through the crowd. They rose high peeking at all below. Tables with hungry faces stuffed cheeseburgers and ice cream. Homemade pies and aromatic blends of tasty treats made with love filled the nostrils.

Sam and Ralph, his friend when he visited his grandparents sat with Ralph’s older brother and his friends. After this.” Sam says between his hot-dog on a stick bites. “I’m getting a cotton candy.”

“Yeah, Ralph added. Give me my money now Eddie.” Ralph stuck out his sticky fingers. Big brother Eddie stood up and reached into his pocket.

“You kids stay close. We’re gonna go on that coaster soon and I want you with us. So you guys got any guts or what?” Eddie aimed his words in the direction of his companions. Alvin looked up at the silver glistening bullet, holding it’s gleeful passengers as it glided effortlessly across the undulating structure of the “Monster Cyclone.”

“I got guts Eddie, I’m just not stupid.” Tim looked down and kicked a tossed away wrapper. “I don’t think standin’ up on a roller coaster shows guts. I think it shows an absence of brains.”

“You and your brains.” Eddie stood up. I bet even these little peewees wouldn’t be afraid to stand up on the “Monster.” Eddie wrapped his arm around his little brother.

“I don’t think Mom wants us to do anything that might hurt us Eddie.” Ralph looks over at his Mom in a hot-dog booth. She waves. “I don’t think Mom wants us to do anything that might hurt us Eddie.”

His older brother animates his face in mock display. “Okay all you cowards can just watch while I have some real fun.” Sam and Ralph jump up and run as Ralph’s Mom offers big pink clouds of cotton candy.

“Maybe you should listen to your little brother.” Alvin reaches into his pocket to count his change. Why spoil the fun?”

“Or maybe Eddie is right. It might be fun to see the look of shock on Mrs. Matthew’s face as we wave to her from our lofty perch.”

Tim snakes his arm through the sleeve of his jacket. “I guess I’m game. Maybe we can make it our last ride. Kinda like the icing on the cake.” Eddie reached down to snatch a large section of his now present little brother’s candy puff.

“You ain’t puttin’ it off are ya?” Tim looks disgusted.

“If I didn’t want to do it I’d tell you.”

” Okay then we’ll make it the last ride. A ride on the wild side.” Eddie retorts. “A ride we’ll never forget.” Tim almost states this as a question.

Now dust, the sky is gray with a half sun, half moon glow. The boys stare at the “Monster Cyclone” as it looms present before them, dwarfing their image. Almost beaconing, it’s whispers can be heard in the wind, through the swishing wheels against metal. “Come take your chance on the thrill of your life.” It seems to say. Look at the happy faces when they spin with me. Wild ride, fast ride, the wheels grid out.”

The carnival worker snaps the security bar down on the two little ones first. The car only seats two in a row so a just arriving girl is placed in the middle seat next to Alvin. Tim and Eddie are last to take their seats in the front of the car. The car descends it’s first hill. Eddie stands up waving his arms, “Eeeeeeh,” he yells to the crowd below, looking at startled faces.

“Stand up,” he calls to Tim who is holding on.

“Your not supposed to stand up you know.” The girl is glaring at the two. “That is so stupid.” The car now jugs its way up another even higher mound. “Just obey the rules you guys, isn’t it easier?”

Alvin agrees with his new found ally. “Come on Tim I just did it and it was fun.” Eddie tugs on his friends jacket. The coaster releases it’s no longer chugging car, hurling it downward once again. The captive groups held in its grasps scream. Eddie stands up. Tim wobbles to his feet and raises his arms with great effort. When he lets go of the bar holding them in, it flies up and the two boys fall out.

“I guess it was a faulty bar.” Grampa looks out the window of his kitchen and holds the phone a little tighter to his ear. “I don’t know. Yes, a real tragedy. Yes, I’m sure. No Sandy, Sam is fine. Don’t worry. All right, see you then.” Grampa reached down to brush the hair out of his Grandson’s face. “Lets go do some weedin’.”

“I’m glad you didn’t do the same foolish thing those older boys did. I’m proud of you son.” Grampa pulled on his garden gloves.

“I knew it wasn’t a very smart thing to do.” Sam grabbed the trash bin and moved it closer. “But I’ve been thinkin’ about it and it makes me understand some things about God and life a little better.”

Grampa raised his brow. “God and life? Sounds serious.”

“It is.” Sam looked up at his Grampa.

“What about God and life do you understand better, son?”

“Well, remember when I asked you why God makes the people that he knows won’t get saved? And will get burned in a bad place?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I think he makes them anyway, knowing what they’ll do so others can learn.”

“I don’t think God makes bad people on purpose. It just happens that way. Man’s will is free, he can choose what he likes. God gives him life and hopes he’ll choose what’s right. It’s kind of like throwing a hand full of sand out on the ground. No matter how many times you through it out it’s never going to land the same.”

Grampa throws a pretend handful. ” That’s what happens when God makes people, they’re all different.”

” God didn’t give us a weakness to do bad?” His grandson’s posed a question.

“No if anything He tries to get us to do good.”

“I think if He only made the good ones because He knows the future. Sam begins. Then maybe they wouldn’t be good anymore. Maybe it takes one to make the other? “Maybe that’s what happened in heaven.”

Grampa points to the sky. “With Satan? I wondered why God would make him, if he knew what he would do. I think I understand now. If he wasn’t the Devil maybe someone else would have been?” You know, sometime, somewhere, somebody would have stood up in the roller coaster… Grampa squints his eyes. “And if nothing happened to them, somebody else would stand up and pretty soon maybe everybody.”

“Sammy squints back. “When we see the bad we know the good is better.”

“Maybe some go down there, so some don’t have too?” Grampa points to the ground. Kind of like the weeds we pull up? We wouldn’t know how nice the daisy.” He plucks a flower. “If we didn’t have the weeds.” He plucks a weed. “Yeah, how would we know.” Sam grins.

“Pick one.” Grampa holds out the two plants. The common daisy never looked so pretty. “The daisy is best it’s plain to see, now that’s it’s held up, next to the weed.” Sammy grabs the pretty white and butter yellow bloom.

“Hey you two. “Gramma is at the back door. We’re going to be late.

“Lets go.” Sam races to the sound.

“Gramma, I picked you a flower.”

“Hey, I picked that! Kids can sure come up with some humdingers, some real humdingers.”

Grampa scratched his head and arched his back.

What are you, a Daisy or a Weed?

By Marjeana Martin


The Daisy Grows With the Weeds