A Quest for the Golden Pond:

As I went on a walk today, I noticed the many dandelion flowers polka-dotted across the green grass in the fields. I was enjoying looking at the stark contrast between the lush green grass and the feathery yellow flowers. It was like stars glistening across the night sky in earth form. It held a beauty of its own. But, the truth is, the dandelion is not humanity’s favorite flower. The human psyche subconsciously wants to eradicate this golden flower from their yards and landscapes. And I wondered why? The dandelion is not an ugly flower. It is rich in vitamins A, C, and K, and is a good source of calcium, potassium, iron, and manganese; therefore, it can be used to nourish our bodies. It flourishes and can grow anywhere. And, that is when it dawned on me. The dandelion is a survivor. It can survive through hot and cold temperatures and can grow in virtually any type of soil. They can grow in the sun or in the shade. When the lawnmower mows them down, they adapt and grow shorter stalks, so the mower will not cut them down a second time. Undoubtedly, they are the garden variety of the cockroach. They seem to survive almost anything you throw at them. Although there is a time in life to survive, it is unhealthy to live in this mode indefinitely. To barely make it by, to survive in the cold when you could thrive in the sun. Hanging by our pinky fingers on the bottom rung of a ladder and telling ourselves, “It’s okay. I’m making it. I haven’t fallen yet. I’m a survivor.” Sometimes, we applaud ourselves for being “survivors,” but is this really any way to live? Eventually those pinky fingers will wear out from fatigue and you need to have a solid earth foundation to land upon when this happens. Or, better yet, as you are dangling from the bottom rung of the ladder, you reach out from within and make steps to thrive instead of just survive. You begin reaching up and climbing back up the ladder (slowly and steadily) one rung at a time. So, maybe the dandelion reminds us that we are all survivors in one manner or another. And, sometimes this reminder can be painful (therefore, the subconscious urge to remove them from our presence). When we walk past a dandelion growing in the crack in the sidewalk, it reminds us that it is surviving, but not thriving. It reminds us that we may be living stagnant between a rock and a hard place and not giving ourselves the room we need to blossom fully. When we see a dandelion with a short stalk, we are reminded the dandelion grew smaller as a defense mechanism in order to survive. It was cut down and grew back quieter/closer to the ground in order to be quietly present in this life, but not be heard. Our lives can reflect the survival instinct of the dandelion. When we do not allow for space in our lives, we place ourselves in that crack in the sidewalk. We do not give ourselves the room needed to flourish. When we are cut down by the words of another person, we may cower and retreat low to the ground as a defense. We may choose to close ourselves off from other people for fear of being hurt again. We may become a smaller version of our true selves. With Jack’s cancer treatment coming to a close in August, I realize that (as a family), we have mostly been just surviving. We have learned the ways of the dandelion. We have made it through some very painful moments over the last three years, and we have done what we have needed to do to survive the traumatic experiences. At the end of Jack’s cancer treatment in August, it is my hope that we can break this cycle of “surviving” and allow the future to mushroom into a whole new life experience. It is my hope that we will learn steady gratefulness, to live life fully, to let go of fear and anxiety, to move into a whole new realm of exciting new possibilities. To try new things, to give ourselves space to grow, to remember to give Jack independence so that he has space to grow as well. This will be my goal as we near the end of this chapter. To teach myself the importance of boldly expanding my horizons and not allowing fear, rejection, and worry to stifle my growth. Yes, I am very grateful that Jack will be a cancer survivor, but I do not want him to hold onto this title as a crutch. I want this experience to be a part of his life journey, but I do not want this to be his identity. I want him to be a former cancer patient that has learned to thrive. I want the disease to be a distant memory that was the catalyst for positive change in our lives. Just another part of our story. I want Jack to be so full of life and joy and happiness that it pours over into the people around him. I want this healing for our whole family. Ahhhh, the dandelion. When we come to the moment of the next new chapter in our lives, I will look at you and remember your lessons well. You showed us how to survive in the tiniest of spaces, you showed us how to shiver to survive the cold, and you showed us how to derive nutrients out of the poorest of soils for food for our bodies. For this, we are grateful. But now it is time to turn to a new teacher for lessons. Lessons that will assist us in moving past survival mode and learning how to prosper.