Thistles

Thistles on the Bear River

There is a person I love dearly who I've watched make one bad decision after another. Even when they try to do something good, they negate it by the way they do it.

There is a plant common to Utah called the thistle, which is a nuisance to any who come across it. No one has a good word to say about it. It has thorns and spines and even the flowers are sharp and wicked looking.

My person is similar. It is easy to fall into gossiping about them, they have an abundance of faults, each more glaring than the next. They can't even get the big things, like Christmas, right.

This thistle plant will actually take over whole fields, rendering them useless even for cattle grazing.

Whenever my person is around, they take over your life with their endless fiascoes. Their stress invades any structure you try to establish.

There is, actually, one redeeming feature of the thistle plant. Every single part of it is edible, even nutritious. Once it is reduced to its essence - ground down, pulverized, pressed, or extracted - it actually has many valuable qualities.

Which makes me wonder about my person. If they were transparent, what would I see on the inside? How often do I miss the essential goodness and strength inherent in this person. Maybe they would even have something to edify me, if I could learn to ignore the spines and thorns, the image, if you will.