Big, bold, yellow and orange blooms burst out of the ground in my yard. When my neighbor gave me marigold seeds, I never dreamed they’d look this wonderful. Good enough to enter in this year’s county fair.
First I need to get rid of these weeds growing alongside them, I thought. I’ll get Cole right on it. He was always willing to help his mom out these days.
“You got it!” he said when I pointed out the weeds. I could almost feel the satiny blue prize-winning ribbon in my hands.
A little later I went out to check on Cole’s progress. The yard was covered in dead marigolds. I threw my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream.
Cole stood proudly over the decimated flowers with the weed eater.
“My marigolds!” I cried. “They’re ruined.”
Cole’s face fell. “I thought they were part of the weeds,” he said.
I took a deep breath. Wasn’t a good son worth all the marigolds in the world? “That’s okay,” I said as I picked up the petals. “They’re just flowers.” Maybe I’d try for that ribbon again next year. Now there wasn’t time to have even a slim chance.
Cole tugged my sleeve. “There’s one left,” he said. “The stalk was too thick for the weed eater.”
The lone marigold won me first prize at the fair! God made sure I had all the chance I needed.
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