The other day my daughter and I were watching an educational video on how plants communicate.
And the announcer told us that the smell of cut grass is the olfactory equivalent of a scream.
Yes, that sweet scent that reminds us that summer is here, is really the silent cries of thousands of tiny blades of grass being decapitated for our property perfection. Kinda makes you reconsider the compassion of being a vegetarian doesn’t it? I mean people avoid meat so as not to have the shrieks of another living thing on their dietary conscience. When I informed my husband of this new fact, he stated, “Well, if everything suffers, we might as well start choosing our diet based on which cries are the most delicious.” My daughter then shrieked in delight.
I thank God that He didn’t make it so that grass actually cries out in terror as the lawnmower growls to life, but gave us a sweet-scented return for our lawnicide, a smell that is so delicious that people have managed to bottle it into fragrances, candles, and cleaners.
I wish I could be more like my lawn and give off my own spiritual version of cut grass every time I suffer. Of course my grass is more weeds than grass, and the smell is more oniony than sweet, which is probably more analogous to my response to being perfected by the weed-wackers of life. Consider this:
“More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” – Romans 5:3-5
Who knew that cut grass would give us a picture of what rejoicing in suffering looks and smells like? So may my (and your) response to suffering be a bestseller at Yankee Candle, not for our glory, but for the God who loves us enough to prune us.
As for my daughter’s school work that gave us a nice screaming salad: