Wild Flowers

"Wild Flower" written by Doug Edwards and Dave Richardson

Lately I have had some younger women cross my path who have difficult relationships with their mothers. Not the perfectly normal head butting that may take place during the teenage years, over curfews broken or school work neglected. These young women have been abused by their mothers. Just like I was.

It's like this big club, and none of us ever wanted to join it. I hear the sadness in their voices. I see the pain in their eyes as they tentatively describe it. I sense the shame they seem to feel, that it is somehow their fault. They blurt something out, and then they backtrack a little to make an excuse for their mothers, to give these older women the benefit of the doubt. They shyly share their stories, and then I see it. The spark of recognition when I tell them, oh yes, my mother used to do that to me, too. My mother used to say that to me.

Some bloggers don't use their real names, but Susan is my real name. It is Hebrew for "lily." A couple of years ago, I wanted to get my first tattoo and my daughter-in-law took me to her tattoo artist. We exchanged names, I told him I was Susan and he asked what I had in mind. I said I wanted it near my ankle, my initial "S" for my name and a flower. That's all I told him. He came back about ten minutes later with a sketch, and there was my initial entwined with a lily. Was that just a coincidence, or did he look up the meaning of my name? I didn't ask, but I loved his art and creativity.

These younger women that I am telling you about don't deserve what they get from their mothers. They are good girls. They are talented and beautiful and loving, and against the odds they are blooming where they are planted. In some pretty rocky soil, and without a lot of sunlight. And still they grow. And still they bloom. They are wild flowers, because they have not been carefully cultivated like some girls who have loving, devoted mothers. They have to figure a lot of things out for themselves, and they make their share of mistakes. They are not fragile flowers, but sometimes I treat them like they are. They deserve an extra helping of kindness and love. I am blessed to know them. Their fragrance is so sweet.

Susan