Dave was walking a bit ahead of me as Rosie pulled him quickly towards the park she enjoyed so much. He was a good 20 to 30 feet ahead, and this provided an opportunity for the emotions that were simmering inside me to explode like a mishandled pressure cooker.
“Why, Lord? Why Ian?” I cried out. Questions I asked often in those very early days.
“Lord help me,” I cried out audibly, but not loud enough for Dave to hear. I wiped away tears that surged and receded violently like tsunami waves.
Rosie stopped to sniff around and soon we were walking as a group again. I’m sure Dave didn’t notice my sad condition because happiness was altogether elusive back then.
We reached the center of the large open field as my thoughts swirled. I had a severe ache inside my soul. I missed our boy so much I thought I might die. As tears began to well up in my eyes again, I diverted them towards the ground hoping to spare Dave the trauma.
When I looked down, at my feet was a little yellow flower. I plucked it from the earth. This was not just any little yellow flower.
This was “our” little yellow flower, mine and Ian’s.
This flower goes way back with us. When Ian was a toddler, I’d pull him in his little red wagon to the park where Zach and Dave were already at little league baseball. On the way, we’d always pass an area where the little yellow flowers, called Wedelia, served as cheerful ground-cover.
On most days, I’d stop and pick one for Ian. He loved them and beamed. Soon, he would pick them for me. Throughout our lives, the little yellow flower became “our flower.” Not long before he passed to heaven, I ran across this flower, took a photo and texted it to him. He immediately texted back a mega smiley face emoji.
So, here was this yellow flower in the middle of this very large field, at my feet. I realized the significance right away and showed it to Dave. No explanation was required; he knew the history.
I figured the field was covered with these little yellow flowers which seem to grow wild and vibrantly just about anywhere. But, as we looked around, we didn’t see any other little yellow flowers … anywhere.
Our eyes scanned the area as we walked the entire length of the park back to the sidewalk. Nothing.
We walked in silence and in awe.
God did not answer my question – Why Ian? But He reminded me with the appearance of a single Little Yellow Flower that He hears my cries, He knows my pain, and He cares.
Since Ian’s passing nearly 10 months ago, I have been blessed with several signs from God. I believe that the Lord is teaching me to see life through a different lens. When I cry out to Him, He comforts me in the most unexpected ways.