I saw someone using an implement of horticultural torture to gouge out a dandelion from her otherwise pristine lawn the other day, and I winced. Not that I haven’t ripped out weeds from my own lawn and garden: one person’s ugly invader is another’s herbal remedy, but I have always admired these little spots of sunshine amidst spring’s green, green grass. When it comes to the dandelion, I say, “Let it be.”

I didn’t know until recently that dandelions are also the symbols for military children, who are encouraged to bloom where they land, to stay strong, to flourish in sometimes tough conditions. When I discovered this piece of information, I realized in the next instant that all of my five grandchildren are dandelion children-all five have had a parent serving in the military for their entire lives.

 At eight years old, our oldest granddaughter has lived in seven different homes in five different states. Her helicopter-pilot father has been deployed to faraway places for two of the eight years she has been on this earth. She and her two younger sisters have had to adapt to new schools, to say good-bye to old friends, and to find new friends. They have also been fortunate to experience new adventures such as reaching Pike’s Peak at a very young age and scampering about Lincoln’s Kentucky birthplace. From Pennsylvania to Kentucky and with lots of places in between, the three little sisters have learned to be strong and flourish.

Our son, who left full-time Army duty last year to come back to the farm, is currently away on a month-long training mission with the National Guard. Our youngest grandchild, an energetic nineteen-month-old, is probably wondering where the big, tall person is who used to carry him, feed him, and cuddle him when he cried. He’s too young to even give voice to his angst.  When I asked his three-year-old sister where her Daddy was, she said, “He’s in heaven.” After a shocked second, I responded, “Nope, try again.” “He’s in the Army,” she corrected herself. Right-o, little one, and I know that you don’t even really understand what you are saying. He’s just far, far away, and none of us knows exactly where at the moment, but I can assure you that when he does return home, he will probably feel like he is in heaven.  

As I have watched the dandy-lionesses, my daughter and my daughter-in-law, deal with being single parents at times as their husbands have done their military jobs, I have felt incredibly proud of them, as well as sad for them and worried for them as they have coped with holding down the fort, forging onward, doing absolutely everything to ensure that their little dandelions thrive.

Growing up during the Vietnam era, I had little connection to the military life and what it entailed. We were civilians, and war was bad.  I never imagined that I would have offspring who would serve in the military. It is still somewhat of a shock to me that I have become a military mom/mother-in-law. You never know, do you?

But there is always something to learn in life, and I have a much better understanding and a deeper appreciation for our military families now, no doubt born of familiarity more than anything. I am beyond proud of my farmer children (and that’s another story that I will share someday), and I am equally tremendously proud of all of my young military relatives.

 Life is not always easy, that’s for darn sure: I think that military children understand that as well as anyone does.

And as for dandelions, they have a special place in my heart.  

This one is for Hadley, Lily, Finley, Mila, and Tate, with love from Nana/Jenjen

And thank you for reading this.