Six years ago, my husband and I were married on a warm overcast afternoon in Ohio. We’d planned, finalized our registry, and were finally ready for the big celebration.
I had one small surprise. As we were browsing one day, Nick saw some champagne flutes he liked at Macy’s. They were expensive and impractical, so we didn’t think twice about it. But right before our wedding, I felt like it was important to focus on celebrating, and so I bought them and surprised him for our wedding toast.
Since then, they’ve become our go-to glasses whenever we have something to celebrate. Whether it’s the birth of one of our kids, a new job, or even just making it through a busy work week—whenever we celebrate, we break out the flutes, and fill them with a myriad of drinks to toast the occasion at hand.
These flutes represent the good. They represent something important. They represent the things in life we want to remember, and we want to remember together.
After a chilly spring, it seems summer might finally be here. Wherever you look, green buds are popping up on trees and flowers are springing from the ground.
Weeds. And. All.
My 4-year-old has taken an appreciation of dandelions. When we’re driving and he sees a field of the bright yellow flowers, he’ll squeal with glee and point them out for everyone to see. At home, in parking lots, at preschool, whenever we go—he’ll pick as many as his small fists can hold and hand them to me.
You guys, they’re weeds. If anyone else handed me those things, I’d probably Minnesota-nice them to their face and then dump them when they weren’t looking.
But consider the source here. What my four-year-old sees isn’t a weed. He sees the wonder and beauty of nature. He sees a bright yellow delight he can’t help but share with others.
I love this idea of beauty. When we experience it, we can’t help but tell others about it. And even though others might not initially see the beauty, we can help them find it by explaining the experience we had or show them the world through our eyes to help them see what we see. And in this, we give a glimpse of beauty they might’ve otherwise missed.
Over and over again, my kids do this for me. Where I see weeds, where I see broken, incomplete, flawed, still in progress, or inconvenience—they see life and joy and love and laughter and fun.
This week, I put my 4-year-old son’s bouquet of dandelions in our celebration champagne flutes. I did this to remind myself to search for beauty where I struggle to find it. To remind myself to take a second glance at something that maybe, at first, appeared as a weed. Our champagne flutes represent celebration, and I want to celebrate the beauty my son sees. And I want to see it, too. Where I’ve grown beyond the dandelion’s beauty, I need a reminder to take a another look.
So I put weeds in champagne glasses. Because sometimes I need to see the beauty around me.