The Proud Dandelion

On a dark December night, there’s not much that can compete with a yard full of Christmas lights, inflatable Santas and twinkling wire deer sculptures.

Maybe a streetlight or the headlights of a passing car could rival the bright glow, but neither is very festive.

I passed by a house that had no lights up outside and no lights on inside. On any given day, there seems to be little going on there; not much life, not much upkeep, not much besides the bare minimum.

The fading glow of the streetlight behind me, however, illuminated a tiny dandelion in the house’s front yard; it was perhaps the most life at this particular address. The full, fluffy white seed head looked like a miniature firework exploding in the dark night, and it was one of the tallest dandelions I’ve ever seen. I wondered how much longer it would be before it would be visited by a lawnmower, or when we’d have our next windy day that would displace the white fluff forever.

While not an intentional “decoration,” it seemed like it was happy to be there and eager to get in on the action of the season. It certainly didn’t compare to the gaudy display a few houses away, but it did what it could to share what it had. It seemed to revel in the warmth from the distant streetlamp, treating it as its own Hollywood-esque spotlight.

Decorations come in all shapes and sizes during the holidays, some more extravagant than others. At the lifeless house, a tiny weed found a home, and it was doing its best to stand tall and share its beauty with the drab surroundings. At the end of the day, it’s never just about the final product or the outward appearance. It’s about your mettle, your motivation and your true intentions along the way regardless of your age, experience or ability.

Tonight I am thankful for the tiny dandelion and its determination to do the best it could, given its environment and lot in life. It won’t win any awards, but it’s sure to be known as making the most out of what it had to work with.

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