Wildflower Writes

Photo by  Suhyeon Choi  on  Unsplash I was recently “gifted” with some of my old papers- elementary school report cards, nursery school art, and a Sunday School certificate signed by Mrs. Betty Engle. As a child, I saw Betty as not only kind, but elegant and charming. She had a grace beyond a typical Midwesterner. I was a little jealous of my friend who was able to call her “grandmother.” Ms. Betty passed away this week, and I wonder if her grandchildren and great-grandchildren felt what I have felt after a loved one passed away. My world was upended. I would never see or speak to this person again (although I did ask God to give my grandma a message). Yet, almost unceremoniously, the rest of the world marched on. People in the grocery store acted like nothing had changed. People laughed and planned fun things. It seemed wrong for them to act normal when I was in such pain. Of course, strangers had no way to know how I was feeling, and no reason to act differently. ...

In Roman times, soldiers carried a shield, made of pressed wood and reinforced with iron and brass. In battle, this shield kept them from injury so they could live to fight another day. When a centuria of soldiers was under heavy fire, they would form a "testudo" or tortoise. This formation was created from the shields of all the soldiers, and together it made a "shell" that protected all of the soldiers more completely than any one shield could protect one soldier.  This is why I am part of a church. My personal faith is an amazing thing that gives me an identity, a purpose, and an understanding of the world. It protects me from the "flaming arrows of the evil one" (Ephesians 6:16). But it's not enough. In the same way a soldier's body isn't completely covered by a shield, my faith is inadequate if I practice it in solitude.  But if I combine my faith with the faith of a teenager who is pursuing a calling from God, the faith of a ...

Fireworks have marked celebrations for centuries.  First there’s the zoom of them shooting into the air, the brilliant explosion of light and color, and then the big BOOM as the sound catches up.  A fireworks display always reminds me of that line in the National Anthem: “and the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air…”  It reminds me that on the other side of the world, there are folks who may be viewing fireworks that aren’t pretty or exciting, but a matter of life and death.  Throughout the history of our country, men and women have voluntarily put their lives on the line in the fight for freedom.  Their families, too, have paid the price for independence, for unity, for democracy.  The national anthem was written by Frances Scott Key, who was detained by the British during the war of 1812.  As they attacked Fort McHenry, he sought a glimpse of their emblem of freedom, the American flag.  After witnessing the battle throughout the n...