Wildflower Writes

Photo by  Diana Polekhina  on  Unsplash   As a former athlete and musical theater participant, you would think I’d be graceful and coordinated. This is not the case. I’m kinda clumsy. In fact, as a teenager, my church youth group nicknamed me “Niagara” as in, “Niagara Falls.” I’m not better. I still have a scar on my thumb where I tried to open a cinnamon roll can with a knife. I have several burn scars from my stints in food service (and one from a fireplace). I’ve tripped four times on my morning jog- once while running from zombies (long story). The last time I tripped, I stepped off a sidewalk onto an uneven brick-paved road. I tried to jump up and continue my run, but I had scraped up my arm and leg and hurt my ego as well as my body. I walked home and cleaned myself up. It was ugly to look at. It hurt to walk. But every day the wounds shrunk and the pain was less, until only a scar was left. The pain after my fall let me know I needed to clean up and ...

A song on the radio has been haunting me. It seems like every day I hear it, sometimes more than once. I’m not sure why, but I wonder if God’s trying to tell me something. “The Motions” by Matthew West: This might hurt, it's not safe But I know that I've gotta make a change I don't care if I break, At least I'll be feeling something 'Cause just okay is not enough Help me fight through the nothingness of life I don't wanna go through the motions I don't wanna go one more day without Your all consuming passion inside of me I don't wanna spend my whole life asking, "What if I had given everything, instead of going through the motions?" No regrets, not this time I'm gonna let my heart defeat my mind Let Your love make me whole… The phrase that captures me the most is, “I don’t wanna spend my whole life asking, ‘What if I had given everything…’” Isn’t that haunting? How would life be different if it was lived with complete abandon and unbrid...

I don’t have prejudices. I see all people as the same- without distinction in their color, gender, or religion. Yeah, right. Is that even possible? My entire life I’ve been influenced by friends, family, television, magazines, and an entire culture. Beyond whatever I want to believe or think, there are constant voices whispering in my ear from a thousand directions to influence me otherwise. All I can do is act on what I know is right, and true, and fair. Even when I’m the one being discriminated against. “You the one who put us all in the dirtiest, greasiest jobs out there,” he said. Our newest nursing home resident was accusing me personally of relegating his entire race to the worst jobs available at the time he earned a living in a factory. I was speechless. What do you say to something like that? “You been white all your life, ain’t you?” he asked. “Afraid so,” I said, trying to make light of the situation. It really was a silly question. “That’s kinda beyond my contro...

I wrote that last poem almost 10 years ago. I had just had a miscarriage, had failed to keep a church ministry alive, and could not find employment in my chosen career field. I know what depression is. I know what it’s like to feel like there’s no hope, that life hurts too much to continue forward. I know what it’s like thinking that others are better off without you. I had imagined all the ways to end it, but couldn’t find the strength to go through with it. There was also a spark of something within, probably God’s quiet spirit, that wouldn’t allow me to destroy something that He had created, as miserable and wretched as it seemed. This all comes back to me as I read about the life a young man who gave up the fight. From everything his co-workers express, he was bright, funny, warm, and kind. I wish I’d known him. I wish somehow some small voice could have let him know how much his life was cherished, how much he was loved and appreciated by everyone around him, before he made that f...

Nothing is quite like finding out that another person has been saying things about you that not only are untrue, but are mean-spirited and may cost you your job. I rarely cry. I guess I want to believe that most people are basically good, that they wouldn’t go out of their way to hurt another person. I don’t know if it was a lack of sleep, or other little stresses, but the thought of someone who can look me in the face one day and tell me how helpful I was to one of her friends, and the next day, throw me to the wolves… set me over. I couldn’t concentrate on work, and I started to feel nauseous. I went to the bathroom, and the tears started to flow. I prayed for the strength to forgive, to resist giving this person the cold shoulder or telling others what a… kind of person she really is. I did some deep breathing. I was able to tell my husband about it over lunch, which helped. I try not to let things like this affect me so strongly. My boss says I take things too pers...