Earlier today, a friend posted a picture of a
fuzzy-leafed mystery weed that sprang up in her garden. I knew immediately what
it was: mullein. When I was a child, my mom introduced me to the tall, spiky
plant with the yellow flowers. A weed? Perhaps, but it was never that to me.
Mullein was a plant that grew anywhere, a fuzzy, tall spot of color along dull
roadways and otherwise barren hills.
My
friend that posted the picture said she had a knack for growing weeds. To
assure her of her serendipitous talent, I looked up the plant for her.
Apparently, mullein also has medicinal uses, but that is a little beyond my
scope of knowledge. The (online) literature said is that mullein grows where
everything else has been cleared and along waste places.
When
I read “waste places,” something began stirring in this Old Testament gal. I
remembered a verse about rebuilding the wastelands. I had to look it up,
though. To my delight, it comes from a passage so beloved that even Jesus
quoted from it:
Isaiah
61:1 The
Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach
good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to
proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that
are bound; 2
To
proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all that mourn; 3 To
appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the
oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord,
that he might be glorified.
4
And they
shall build the old wastes, they shall raise up the former desolations, and
they shall repair the waste cities, the desolations of many generations.
5
And strangers
shall stand and feed your flocks, and the sons of the alien shall be your
plowmen and your vinedressers.
6
But ye
shall be named the Priests of the Lord: men shall call you the Ministers of our
God: ye shall eat the riches of the Gentiles, and in their glory shall ye boast
yourselves.
7
For your
shame ye shall have double; and for confusion they shall rejoice in their
portion: therefore in their land they shall possess the double: everlasting joy
shall be unto them.
8
For I
the Lord love judgment, I hate robbery for burnt offering; and I will direct
their work in truth, and I will make an everlasting covenant with them. 9 And their seed shall be
known among the Gentiles, and their offspring among the people: all that see
them shall acknowledge them, that they are the seed which the Lord hath
blessed.
10
I will
greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath
clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of
righteousness, as a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride
adorneth herself with her jewels.
11
For as
the earth bringeth forth her bud, and as the garden causeth the things that are
sown in it to spring forth; so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise
to spring forth before all the nations.
Verse
4 says, “And they shall build the old wastes, they
shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities,
the desolations of many generations.” I kept thinking about my
friend the mullein.
About
a half mile from my home, near the Winooski River, there was once a wooded
area. Over the last 2 years, the land has been cleared, presumably for
development. Among piles of stumps, debris and tree corpses, a familiar fuzzy
plant began to spring up. By the second year, these biennials had spikes of
flowers among the hairy leaves. Some day the land may be under asphalt or under
manicured lawns, but right now, my friend the mullein “bringeth forth her bud.”
About
20 years ago, I lived in an apartment that had a garden space in the back. For those who wonder, a large portion
of Chittenden County has near 100% clay soil. A garden of clay doesn’t tend to
allow much to grow. Over 5 or 6 years I composted, planted and waited. I became
rather proud of my once barren garden as it gradually changed from clay to
viable soil. It even returned some pleasing vegetables and flowers for my
efforts.
There
is something inside me that is born to turn clay into viable soil. I’m not an
expert gardener but I love leaving the ground better because I was there. My friend’s
photo of a “weed” jump-started my prayers today. As I meditated upon the
symbolism, I couldn’t help but conclude that the plant world is very like the
world of humanity. Each soul has its place and destiny in this marvelously
intricate life.
It may sound goofy,
but aren’t some of us born like clover, fixing nitrogen into the soil so other
plants can thrive? Some of us vine and wrap the soil so it won’t wash away.
Some of us send down mighty roots bringing water to a thirsty land. Some of us
flourish after others have laid the groundwork, bringing joy and beauty and
nourishment.
Today,
I salute the mulleins of the world. Your work is hard, but you do it, growing
and blooming where you are planted. You bring hope and color to a barren place.
Stark beauty draws you and you can’t help but make it more beautiful for the
next generation.
And
if you can soothe an earache or calm a cough, that’s an added bonus.
Shalom.
