When I was a little boy I used to pick dandelions for my mother. I’d be running around the backyard and notice those bright, curious, little yellow weeds. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know they were weeds; I thought they were flowers. I knew that giving flowers was a sign of love, and I knew that I loved my mom, so in my little world dandelions made perfect sense. I’d walk into the house and proudly announce, “Mommy, I picked you a flower!” With a bright smile she would say a huge thank you, give me a hug, and then put the dandelion in a little glass of water and place it on the windowsill above the kitchen sink.

My mother didn’t care that I gave her weeds. Really, would any mother? She was simply overjoyed at the little act of love that her son offered her. It really wasn’t about the dandelion; it was about the son doing his best to show his mom that he loved her. And isn’t that enough to lift a mother’s spirits, to touch a mother’s heart?
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