Wildflower Writes

It’s a familiar scene. Rows of mortarboard hats, jumbled together and jostling one another in excitement. Rows of proud family and friends, equipped with cameras, cards and flowers, celebrate exuberantly. Smiles can be seen as far as the eye can see. High school graduation has become a coming of age ceremony in our culture. It represents a step over the boundary that separates childhood, conformity, and dependence from adulthood, identity, and independence. Even though you have merely progressed from grade to grade for the past 12 or 13 years, there is no longer a set path. At the point of graduation, you are expected to make the next step. Standing on the precipice of decision at such a point can be scary. What if you make a wrong decision? What if you go to the wrong school or pick the wrong major or can’t get a job? It may be easier to see graduation as a “graduated” part of life. Just like any other day in life, it is a day to grow, a day to learn, and a day to just be t

Life is like a poker game. Sometimes the chips are up; sometimes the chips are down. You can’t control what you’re dealt, but you can decide what to do with them. Sometimes you can bluff your way through. The better you read other people the better you can play. You really can’t get anywhere unless you’re willing to risk something. You get your biggest success when you put it all in. Life is like a baseball game. Different people have different strengths and succeed best when their role matches their strengths. Every person plays an important part, although you never know when you’ll be called into action. You do better when you think ahead before you need to act. The more you practice, the better you get, but a coach always helps. Your decisions affect other people. As good as you are, you can’t succeed without the help of others. Life is like a nursing home. Some people are genuinely needy, but try to do what they can for themselves. Some people expect other people to do everything f

Continued from 5/22 post… Wendy jumped, dropping her father’s hand as if she had been caught doing something wrong.  Her mother looked perplexed, then smiled.  “Hi Wendy.  You changed your mind?”  Her mom set her cup of coffee on a side table.  Wendy shrugged and looked away.  There was a sharp rap at the door.  Again, Wendy startled.  “What’s wrong with me?” she asked herself.  A gentleman with white hair and a stethoscope around his neck peered around the door.  “Good morning.”  His voice was soft but strong.  “Will you ladies excuse us please?”  he asked. Wendy followed her mom out of the room and down the hall to the lounge.  “Is that your bike?” her mother asked in disbelief.  Wendy hid her face behind an old issue of Glamour.  A moment of silence stretched into several minutes.  “I’m glad you came,” said her mother finally.  “I know your dad has missed you.”  The words on the page of the magazine blurred before Wendy’s eyes as tears threatened to fall.  She felt so as

Today was the last day of school for my kids. They’ve just finished 2nd grade and kindergarten, respectively. My husband was reminding me of their first day, just over nine months ago. It was supposed to be some big emotional moment, with my youngest child starting school. I was too proud to be sad. He was so excited to get on the big yellow bus with his big sister. I was so nervous I was calling the bus garage when there was no bus after 15 minutes of waiting. I think he’s grown so much in that one school year. He seems older, anyway. He can read now. He wants to be a scientist. He brought home an old phone they had taken apart in class. He writes and illustrates his own stories. The thumb habit is nearly history. He’s an official first grader. My daughter has grown, too. I’m only a head taller than her now, and I had a dream that she was asking to wear my shoes. She is constantly thinking of new schemes and projects for her and her brother to do. She also likes to mak

After reading a news story about a woman who faked her abduction to take a trip to Disney World, the lyrics from “Tainted Love” kept running through my head: Sometimes I feel I've got to Run away I've got to Get away What else could motivate someone to call 911 to report her own carjacking and abduction, and then get on a plane to Orlando? Was she afraid to call in to work? Did she want a vacation without her husband and infant, and was afraid to ask? Everyone has the desire to escape at one time or another. Most of us handle that desire by escaping in small doses, from watching television, engaging in creative hobbies, playing a sport, or participating in social networking sites. A little dose of escape from daily responsibilities, worries, or stresses is a healthy thing. What is it about a situation that causes a desire to get away? According to Walter Cannon, any kind of stress causes a biological fight or flight response. When faced with frustration, the body gears up

I picked up an oldie but a goodie this week: “Boundaries” by Henry Cloud and John Townsend. I like to be inside people’s heads anyway, but to see how so many conflicts and emotional trauma could be avoided by the simple concept of boundaries is astounding. I am what the good authors would call “compliant.” I have trouble saying the word “no.” It’s a perfectly good word, useful in many situations, but for some reason it’s hard for me. I don’t want to make waves; I don’t want to let anyone down. I want to do the right thing; I want to help people. Did you know that it’s okay to say “no” if you don’t want to do something? I didn’t. I thought feeling guilty was an acceptable reason to say yes, even if I didn’t have the desire or the time to do it. For some strange reason, living by everyone else’s agenda leaves me a little hollow, and a little resentful. Yet bad feelings is what I’ve tried to avoid. I don’t want other people to think I’m selfish. I want to avoid the potential c

After a huge barbecue at my sister’s house, a large group of us went for a walk. We followed my brother-in-law’s lead on a winding trail across a field, through a wooded area down to the river, back through the woods and across another field, and onto the neighborhood street. The walk brought back childhood memories of being gone all day during the summer, exploring uncultivated areas, creating forts in the woods, and munching on wild mulberries. As a child, I didn’t plan my day. I got up in the morning, and rode my bike to a friend’s house or to the drug store or to a new place to explore. Whatever “good idea” popped up, I’d pursue, looking for something interesting and fun to do. As I got older, these strange new questions started to pop in my head: “Who am I? Where am I going? What am I doing?” I thought these were questions that I would figure out and have answered by the time I was an adult. I’m not sure how I got the idea that people choose a college major, get a job, an

Memorial Day is one of those anti-holidays. It’s not exactly a happy celebration, although the picnics and parties can be fun. As I celebrate Memorial Day, even if it’s only by taking a day off work, I think about my grandfather. He was a proud veteran from the Korean War. He didn’t talk much about his experiences, but I remember pictures of him in his uniform. He passed away a few years ago. At his funeral he received the traditional military honors. As part of our celebration in church today, we sang a song called “Freedom’s Never Free” by Phillips, Craig & Dean. The first verse goes like this: Standing on a hillside Where the river meets the sea White crosses without number Line the fields of peace And each one a silent witness Staring back at me Every cross a story Of another place in time Where young men thought it worthy To give their life for mine And for the sake of honor Left their dreams behind And for the price they paid I'm forever in their debt Their memory will no

Dirt. Sunshine. Children’s laughter. It was a perfect recipe for starting a garden. I don’t grow things. I can’t even keep cut flowers alive for more than a day. I bought one of those already planted strawberry plants once. Somehow, it grew mold. And not one strawberry. My friend doesn’t grow things either. But she rents from a farmer who gave her a huge area to use for a garden. She invited a few of her friends to plant stuff. I bought some seed packets on a whim at the grocery store. I’m not even sure it’s anything I’ll eat if it grows, like yellow beans and a kind of lettuce I’ve never heard of. My friend was smart. She bought tomato plants, so she doesn’t have to make sure the seeds actually germinate. She inadvertently bought 48 plants, however. It’s good thing tomatoes are so versatile and healthy for you! I have fond memories of “helping” in the garden. My mom had this little plot in the backyard. She always bordered it with marigolds. She planted rhubarb, whic

Continued from 5/15 post… Just as Wendy was trying to figure out how she was going to open the door when she reached the third floor, the door swung open.  A tall young man with curly brown hair, dressed in scrubs, jumped a little when he realized his path was blocked.  He held the door open while Wendy wheeled her bike through.  He cocked his head for a moment, a touch of amusement playing on his lips.  She gave a half smile and shrugged her shoulders.  She knew she must look ridiculous.  She found a family lounge area and wheeled her bike into a corner.  Surely no one else would be dumb enough to take a bike down stairs.  It was probably safe.  Wendy took a deep breath, and wiped her hands on her shorts.  She counted the room numbers, and finally ended up in front of 406.  She walked slowly into the room.  She looked for her mom, but no one was in the room except someone’s feet covered in white sheets to her left.  She was almost tiptoeing in the door.  Her dad lay in the hos

If you’ve never seen Rene Hicks on Comedy Central, you have missed out on one special, hilarious young lady. Born to a Pentecostal preacher father and equally devout mother, Rene ran cross country in college, earned a business degree, and became an accountant in a large firm. On a dare she improvised a routine on amateur night at a comedy club, and the rest is history. As an otherwise healthy woman, her diagnosis of lung cancer baffled her. She had never smoked, but had been exposed to second-hand smoke in the hundreds of clubs and venues she performed at. She made an appearance at the Women’s Council luncheon here in Elkhart today, to talk about the dangers of smoking, and I laughed so hard… well, you can guess the rest. A self-described cultural sherpa, history lover, and cancer survivor, Rene has a lot to talk about. Her unique perspective allows her to see little incongruities in what people say and do, and the results are a riot. Most people wouldn’t think that cancer could b

What makes you happy? Since I have a Bachelor’s in psychology, I could tell you that nothing can make you feel a certain way.  You choose to perceive the circumstances around you and interpret those thoughts into feelings.  What fun is that? Julie Andrews sang about “My Favorite Things” in the movie, “Sound of Music”: Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens Brown paper packages tied up with strings… Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings… Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes Silver white winters that melt into springs These are a few of my favorite things I’m not quite as poetic, but here a few of my favorite things: May sunshine, warming my face and arms Rich dark chocolate,

Have you ever wondered what are children good for? They can’t work; they can’t contribute. They tend to be loud, needy, and self-centered. Why did God create us so that we come into the world in the form of an infant, rather than fully mature? Why did He send His Son to earth in the same form? Anyone I’ve ever known who has become a parent has said the experience changes him or her. All of the sudden, you are not living for yourself. As a pregnant woman, everything you eat, drink, or breathe affects your child. After a baby is born, it relies on its parents for everything. The choices the caregivers make will affect whether that child learns to trust them to meet his or her needs. A child teaches you to love in a way that you’ve never loved before. It’s unconditional and fierce. It protects at all costs, yet disciplines without regret. It believes that anything is possible, and teaches how to deal with reality. It is completely patient, and always yearning for more time. Ch

Pink roses and white tapers adorned the front of the church sanctuary. The decorations highlighted the room itself, with an ornate plaster ceiling, tall stained glass windows, and solid, wooden pews. The people ensconced within the pews fit into the scheme: beautiful, young, dressed in summery dresses and colorful dress shirts. They whispered and laughed in anticipation. Even though I was feeling rather ambivalent about the affair, the lilting notes of the piano and the beautifully simple decorations lent themselves to a genuine romantic atmosphere, despite my sore backside from a 6-hour car ride and the fact I knew absolutely no one in the room except my husband. The groomsmen, dressed in gold vests and ties, waited in a line at the front, the groom’s smile wide and expectant. Three tiny tuxedoed ring-bearers trotted in, followed by two tiny flower girls, serenaded by the loud protests of the third would-be flower girl. Six attendants, sheathed in shimmering pink, hair perfectly coiff

Imagine being born without arms and without legs. You’d never be able to run or dance or play sports. You wouldn’t be able to hold someone’s hand, pet a dog, or hug a friend. People would either pity you or mock you. You would have every reason to feel angry and cheated by life. I saw a man today who faces this challenge. However, he has such a strong, compelling spirit, that after hearing him speak, you almost forget that he has physical limitations. His name is Nick Vujicic. The following is an excerpt from his web page, www.lifewithoutlimbs.org : “Due to the emotional struggles I had experienced with bullying, self-esteem and loneliness, God began to instill a passion of sharing my story and experiences to help others cope with whatever challenge they might have in their lives. Turning my struggles into something that would glorify God and bless others, I realized my purpose! The Lord was going to use me to encourage and inspire others to live to their fullest potential and

I attended an ADEC (Association for the Disabled of Elkhart County) “Learn at Lunch” educational meeting on Friday. The speaker was Jackie Walorski, Indiana State Representative. Although her topic was legislative updates related to funding programs for the disabled, I learned a lot more. Jackie is probably unique as a politician, but she is a self-proclaimed straight shooter. She reminded the group repeatedly that our government is, essentially, of the people, by the people, and for the people. Did you know it is the job of our representatives to help us? It sounds obvious, but I’ve come to see government as a group of individuals detached from the real world, playing with other people’s money, and spending most of their time arguing with each other. When individuals at this event expressed frustration at applications for assistance that lay dormant on some bureaucrat’s desk, she repeatedly told them, (paraphrased) “Call your representative. Call me. It is our job to solve your

Continued from 5/8 post… Wendy ate her breakfast. She didn’t realize she was so hungry. When had she eaten last? She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, flipping the channels to Tom and Jerry. For a moment, lost in the silliness of a clever mouse and a persistent cat, Wendy felt like a child again. She daydreamed about Saturday mornings with her dad when she was little. He would tear her away from the cartoons, and she would feign kicking and screaming as he’d take her outside and push her on the swings, or teach her to ride a bike, or walk to the park. He would never let her sit in front of the television on a golden Saturday like today. Slowly, reluctantly, she willed herself out of her chair and into her room to change her clothes. She put on a T-shirt her dad had bought her on a business trip. Feeling adventurous, she bypassed the car keys and wheeled out her bicycle. It had been gathering dust since she got her license last spring. Wendy started pedaling down the r

I was watching Oprah the other day. It’s not my usual routine, but I wasn’t in an Ellen mood. It was one of those update shows about Dr. Oz and how people fared after taking his advice. There were people who had lost over 100 pounds and people who discovered they had cancer in the early stages. All I could think about is how awesome it would be to have that kind of influence. How would it feel to know you were making a life-changing difference in the lives of untold numbers of people? Wouldn’t you feel important? How amazing would that be? I dream that someday my words will influence that many people in a positive way. Even if I never get there, though, I have to think that making a difference in the world can be an accumulation of small positive gifts everyday. Have you ever heard the Teddy Stallard story by Elizabeth Ballard? It is merely a story, unfortunately, but it chronicles how one person has the ability to say or do just the right thing to change the direction of some

It was after 4:00, and I was grudgingly rushing back to work to meet with a family member at the nursing home. I was focusing on the construction sight at the end of the road, and almost missed my turn. I had one of those dissociative thoughts as I made my turn, that I had narrowly missed driving into destruction. It could be a metaphor for life- that by focusing on all the negative circumstances in life, you inevitably drive your life right into negativity and destruction. Then it occurred to me that it was not called a destruction site. It was a construction site. Even though it looks like a complete mess, each machine, hole, orange sign, and pile of dirt serves a purpose. In time, what now looks like a confused eyesore will be a safer traffic flow pattern with brand new asphalt and signs. Sometimes the roads of life need fixed, too. Too many of us continue down the same paths we’ve always known, and don’t realize they’re filled with potholes until we lose a hubcap or get a flat tire

My eight-year-old performed surgery today. She started with knee surgery on a man in his seventies, and then moved on to a hip replacement. She let me watch the hip replacement. I was fascinated, since I work in a field that sees people recovering from joint surgeries all the time. She viewed the X-ray and made sure she had the right size parts for the job. Then she drew on the hip to mark the point of incision. The next part is a little graphic, so the faint of heart should beware. She used a scalpel to make the incision, and used a zapper (clinical term) to cauterize the bleeding. She separated the fat layer with spreaders, then cut back the muscle tissue, being careful to avoid the sciatic nerve. I could go on, but it gets complicated. I actually learned how they do hip replacements through an internet video game. The site is called EdHeads ( http://www.edheads.org/ ) and is sponsored by Ohio State University Medical Center. Edheads is a non-profit organization, which creates unique

Everyone complains about the weather, but no one ever does anything about it. I have come up with some foolproof ways to control the weather. The following are ways to make sure it rains: Leave your umbrella at home or in your car. Plan an outdoor event. Go to the beach. Park you car a half mile away from your destination. Prepare to grill outdoors. Tell your children you’re going to the park. Go to an amusement park. Schedule a baseball game. Wear a white shirt. Leave the windows open in your car. The following are ways to make sure the sun shines: Get scheduled to work on a weekend. Plan an all-day meeting. Start spring cleaning. Carry your umbrella everywhere. Spend the day at the mall. Ground your child. Forget your sunscreen. Leave your restaurant leftovers in the car. Plan a trip to the movies. Get a migraine. The following are ways to make sure it really storms: Plan a long car trip. Visit a mobile home. Plan an outdoor wedding. Stay in the top floor of a hotel. Plan a long hi

Dedicated to Karen Johnston The doctor said, “no kids” Your polio forbids You were ready to fight I was born, in the rite Of motherhood Under your guidance Words became sentence They said I was bright You taught me to write I was three Every question I asked I was then tasked To tell what I think “Look it up” with a wink An answer You gave me freedom To explore wisdom Friendships and the world Hopes slowly uncurled And life Your strength displayed You weren’t afraid To speak your mind To do what was kind And right You provided meals To talk of ordeals A place to unwind Home ever enshrined In my heart You gave the right to choose Present for all debuts Cheering at each game To everything you came My biggest fan As an adult I received The best gift achieved My mom as my friend To listen and commend And advise I admire your courage In living out wordage Literature and theatre Loving life as actor Of your story As I bid adieu Know I love you And truly thank you For all that you d

I don’t remember making a big deal out of Mother’s Day as I child. I think we all went out to eat after church. At least that would make sense to me since Mom always cooked, but I can’t imagine either of my parents waiting for an hour for a meal at a crowded restaurant. I’m sure there were a string of homemade cards with the accompanying homemade verse. There might have been breakfast in bed a time or two, although Mom always seemed to be up before us. I imagine there may have been some offerings of wadded violets or dandelions as well. In my husband’s family, all the ladies wear orchids to church on Mother’s Day. I felt a little silly the first time, sporting one as a very unmotherly college student, but I felt a little special, too. On Mother’s Day, my home church gives out carnations to all the women. I thought it was merely an inexpensive choice, but it turns out carnations are traditional representations of Mother’s Day. It was the favorite flower of Ann Marie Jarvis, whose passin

Continued from 5/3 post… Wendy put aside her chips and snuggled down under her blanket. The images on the television set grew fuzzy as she dozed off to sleep. She awoke abruptly and sat straight up. Her mind tried to sort out the underground caves from her dreams and where she was now. It was dark. What time was it? She groped for her cell phone but was unable to locate it. She stumbled through the darkness, banging her shin on the coffee table. “Ouch!” she muttered. She realized it was very dark. Neither the oven nor the microwave sported the usual neon numbers. The storm must have knocked out the power. Wendy made her way back to her parent’s bedroom. Seeing her mother’s form wrapped in bedclothes and hearing her soft snore, she relaxed a little. Feeling a little chagrined, she nonetheless crawled under the covers with her mom, feeling comfort in their closeness. Her mind drifted to childhood memories of doing the same thing when her father was away on business. As sleep

What does the ideal mom look like? Is it June Cleaver, wearing pearls while she vacuums and having dinner ready when dad walks in the door? Is it Lucy Ricardo, devoted mother still looking for her next big break on stage or screen, or at least a good adventure? Is it Roseanne Connor, keeping her kids in line with sharp remarks and always speaking her mind? Is it Abby O’Neil, the vegan, homeschooling, all-natural mom from Dharma & Greg who walks around in overalls and burns incense? Is it Reba Hart, a single working mom dealing with her teenage daughter’s pregnancy and her ex-husband’s new wife? Every mom has to decide for herself what motherhood is going to look like. For most people, no one is going to be harder on mom than she is on herself. As times change, society’s expectations of the role of mother change and evolve with them. I don’t know if there is any other time in history that has so many potential expectations of motherhood. Moms are supposed to be totally devoted t

I’m not a political person. I lean toward one party, but vote what I feel is best. I don’t discuss politics with people, because I don’t like to argue. It seems everyone has a slightly different perspective, even when they are from the same party. I got my hands on a quote from Abraham Lincoln that I found very interesting and apropos to our current economic situation. “You cannot help the poor by destroying the rich. You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong. You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift. You cannot lift the wage earner up by pulling the wage payer down. You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatred. You cannot build character and courage by taking away people’s initiative and independence. You cannot help people permanently by doing for them, what they could and should do for themselves.” Even though the recession has affected almost everyone, it has righted some wrongs. Personal finance gurus have been telling us for year

I read an email reply from my son’s kindergarten teacher. She had asked me to pray that it didn’t rain the next day during their field trip to the zoo. I typed back, “I hope everything goes according to plan.” I felt a little guilty for responding that way. Did I really hope that everything went according to plan? Does anything ever go 100 percent according to plan? Of course I hope it doesn’t rain. I hope all the children stay healthy and safe and with the group. I hope none of the animals are traumatized by the onslaught of kindergartners. I also hope for little “unplanned” surprises along the way. I hope for animals that come right up the edge of their pens to discover what children are like. I hope for monkeys that are funny and lions that are scary. I hope for peacocks that show their full plumage. I hope for all the cute, unexpected things children say and do that will make their teachers smile. I hope young friendships are created and strengthened. I hope for memor

“It’s a golden doodle,” said my co-worker. She had brought pictures of her new puppy to work. “A what?” I asked. “A cross between a golden retriever and a poodle. A golden doodle.” she repeated. The photograph showed a miniature canine with pale gold kinky fur, long ears, and bright black eyes. It was playing in the grass. “Where does the “d” come from in doodle?” I asked. A doodle was a scribble on a piece of paper. It was not a dog. “I don’t know!” she exclaimed, a little exasperated with me. I remember the days when dogs stuck to their own kind. There were no schnoodles or doodles or mi-kis. Who do we think we are, messing with nature? My first dog was one third red setter, one third husky, and one third collie. I’m not sure how you breed a dog by thirds, but that was how I remember it. Her name was Frances. She loved to run through the open field at the end of the road. Frances also liked to swim, which was bad news whenever she managed to escape from the house. S

continued from 4/25 post As Wendy’s sobs lessened, unbidden thoughts came to her. They came slowly at first, then rushed in on her in another wave of grief. Would he be at her first soccer match in the fall? He hadn’t missed one since she started running up and down the field as a preschooler. What about graduation? He probably wouldn’t even see her graduate, or see her college dorm room. When she finally found her Prince Charming, who was going to walk her down the aisle? “Oh, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” she cried out loud, wishing for a miracle, wishing that all of this was just a bad dream. When Wendy couldn’t cry anymore, she blew her nose, took a deep breath, and put her keys into the ignition. The rain had lessened somewhat, but lightning still cut through the sky. She slowly pulled out of the lot and made her way home. The drive was a complete blur, and before she knew it she was pulling into her driveway. Her mother’s car was conspicuously absent. Mom was probably at the hospital. Sh

Is there anything more American than baseball? As I sit behind center field, awaiting the start of opening day for the 51st year of Osolo Little League, I’m taken back to some of the happiest moments of my childhood. My dad coached softball before any of his kids were old enough to play. In fact, both my sisters were named after young ladies he coached. We grew up entertaining ourselves by digging in the dirt, running the bases before games, and climbing the bleachers. When I was six, I was finally allowed to play T-ball. We played in jeans then. Even though I was probably just as bored as the other players, I wasn’t a grass picker or a butterfly chaser. I took the game seriously. I put my hands on my knees in a ready stance, and then ran all over the field when someone hit the ball. When it was my turn to bat, I hit the ball and ran as fast as I could. League designations were based on age and not ability then. I played T-ball for three years, and didn’t see a softball until I was nin

It’s my nephew’s birthday today. He’s seven years old. He likes to read, play video games, and is a powerful hitter on the little league field. Kids grow up fast. It never seems like it when you’re wading through diapers and spattered baby food, but they do. Before you know it, that bald baby with a big head is going to school and teaching his parents things they forgot they knew. I love watching babies interact with their world. They are constantly gathering information through all their senses and putting it into practice. I remember watching a baby next to me in a waiting room. His mother had given him a small bottle of pop to keep him busy. He grasped at it with tiny fingers, mouthed the cap, turned it, shook it, and dropped it several times. Once kids are mobile, their explorations increase ten-fold. There’s a child at my friend’s childcare that is like a wind-up doll. You put her on the floor and zoom! She’s crawling so fast her arms and legs are a blur. Soon she’ll