Wildflower Writes

Photo by  Diego PH  on  Unsplash I used to live in a place where light bulbs had a ridiculously short life. I don’t know enough about electricity to know if it was the way the house was wired, or the dollar store bulbs, or if there was another reason some light bulbs had to be changed after just weeks of use. It’s difficult to tell if a bulb is “good” until you actually screw it into a fixture that is turned on and is connected to electricity. By itself, a light bulb can’t brighten a room. It has to be connected to the power of electricity for it to work. I think too many times we try to shine out of our own power. We rely on willpower to keep going on, long after we’ve lost the joy, purpose, and vision that sparked interest in the first place. The truth is, we’re not meant to live life alone. We’re meant to be connected to one another, as part of a larger fixture. We’re also meant to be connected to a Higher Power. Like the variety of light bulbs available for diff...

Photo by  Demi-Felicia Vares  on  Unsplash Friday night. Pizza (frozen), popcorn (-flavored jellybeans), and a movie (free streaming). Let’s just say I’m watching my dollars and cents. While browsing movies, Zombieland came across the screen. I didn’t know much about it… based on the movie poster I would have guessed it took place in a zombie-themed amusement park. Oddly prophetic, in Zombieland, a virus takes over the country. Rather than causing a reliance on masks, sanitizer, and pre-measured 6-foot spaces, however, it causes people to become flesh-eating zombies. The main character has survived because he sticks to his rules. One rule he adopts after teaming up with another survivor is, “Enjoy the little things.” Like Twinkies. This “rule” is profound if you think about it. You’re so depressed you don't want to get out of bed? Focus on the little things that bring joy- a favorite song, a hyperactive squirrel, a hot drink… Start with one thing and just enjoy it...

Photo by  Jon Tyson  on  Unsplash I’ve never been a decorator. My sisters have always been the ones with an eye for art, with the ability to take objects, hang them on the wall and place them on shelves, tie them together with color schemes and themes, and make a house look like a home. My walls have always been bare and white. I was always going to get around to decorating them someday. My daughter, a self-proclaimed command strip expert, helped me to change that today. My walls now have Scripture, inspirational leaves (it’s complicated), paintings by my son and great aunt, and a plaque from my mom that says “Worry is like a rocking chair- keeps you busy but never gets you anywhere.” I don’t know why having these small inspirational tokens mounted on the wall fill me with such joy. They represent my faith, family, and hopes for the future. Hopefully, the next time I’m tempted to give up on my goals, they will remind me to keep moving forward. Although I’m very gr...

Photo by  Derek Story  on  Unsplash Living in an area crisscrossed by railroad tracks, I hear train horns day and night. The long, mournful wail makes me smile, reminding me that there are people and things on their way to the far reaches of the continent, and they happen to be passing close by. Even though I’m settled in my cozy home or office, the trains are forever moving. Someone is traveling to a new destination for a fresh start, or to spend time with loved ones. Someone’s special order is on its way to surprise and delight, and it has to go through my city to get there. I’ve been on the other side, too. I’ve traveled by train, watching small towns zip by the windows, following rivers and seeing mountains approach in the distance. I’ve drifted off to the steady click-clack, click-clack of the wheels on the tracks. I’ve experienced the anticipation of the journey and arriving at my destination. Kay Warren writes in the book, Choose Joy , that “life is much more l...

Yes, I said Joy in Snow. I don't mean watching little "snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes." I mean snow. Snow that dumps in piles and on sidewalks and driveways and streets and icy winds that cut through my heaviest coats. Snow. It's not just that I intensely dislike cold weather. Snow is scary when I have to drive somewhere and the road is slick and I can't see well (partly because I refuse to take the time to clear off my car). Snow is tedious when I have to put on shoes just to take the garbage out. Snow is a pain when I spend an hour shoveling it only to look out the window the next morning to see no evidence of aforesaid shoveling. There are chores, situations, relationships, etc., that seem tedious and overwhelming. No matter how much snow I shovel, or laundry I launder, or dishes I clean, or worksheets I copy, or blogs I write... there's always more to be done. I get frustrated because I have so many new and creative things I want to tr...

When I returned from an appointment yesterday, I was amazed to see that the sun had melted most of the snow and ice off my windows, even though the windchill was in the teens. The sun is an amazing thing- providing light, heat, day, seasons... and I have a special relationship with that glowing orb in the sky. About 8 years ago I was diagnosed with seasonal depression, or winter blues. It's a real thing. When that sun disappears for days or weeks behind heavy clouds, and the sky is a dull gray all the time, I get down. I have a physiological need for light to maintain my sanity. When the sun finally reappears after a long hiatus, I notice right away. I greet my old friend, and I'm filled with joy. Everything (literally and figuratively) seems brighter, more real somehow. A sense of hope is restored; winter is not forever. Light can represent goodness, truth, righteousness, hope. 1 John 1:5&7 says that "God is light...If we walk in the light, as He is in the l...

I had a blessed Christmas Day. I was able to spend time with the people who mean the most to me. I received some very nice things from my doting husband, and my kids were great. I think my parents would have liked us to stay at their house longer, but I was tired and just wanted to be home (which is ironic, since that was  my home for 18 years). I longed for the comfort of my own pillow and jammy pants and relative quiet. I think sometimes that's what heaven is like. We are enjoying ourselves where we are, and we feel at home, but there's a longing for something more comfortable, more basic, more ideal. It's like the song sung by Buddy Greene: I don't belong and I'm going someday, home to my own native land...I've always known, this place ain't home, and I don't belong.  I find deep joy in knowing that this isn't all there is. As much as I enjoy the pleasures of Earth- the fascinating people, the smell of coffee, the taste of chocolate, the c...

Christmas eve... gifts are wrapped (mostly). Treats have been made and sampled. THE gift is put together and ready to play with... I'm ready for Christmas As corny as it sounds, I think the secret of finding joy in the holidays is to see things through a child's eyes. It's not all about the gifts... not really. It's about the excitement, the lights, the visiting with family... even if they can't comprehend everything that Jesus means to the world, they can celebrate the birth of a special baby. My kids have floored me with their generosity this year. Of course we encourage the attribute, but let's face it..generally speaking, kids tend to be selfish- "what's in it for me?" My kids not only purchased gifts for immediate family members, but are making gifts for others, and giving things that they no longer use. And it was all their idea! As Toby Mac says in his song, Christmas this Year , "it's like I'm ten years old again and ever...

Have I already said I hate shopping? I hate crowds, noise, waiting in line... When shopping for gifts, I'm never confident that I'm choosing something that would be useful or appreciated. I get lost in large stores and can't remember where the departments are. I don't like driving, traffic, parking, or dodging cars in the lot. So on a day spent going from bank to store to store to store to store... With a know-it-all teenager and rambunctious child in tow... Where did I find joy? In my devotions this morning, I read Paul's letter to the Philippians. At the time he writes it, he is in prison. Talk about chaos! He writes: "In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy ( Philippians 1:4 )." Now, I wasn't exactly praying for my family  members as I shopped, but I tried to imagine their wants and needs, and how they would react when opening the gifts I purchased. Maybe it wasn't prison per se, but it was not my favorite place to be. ...

When my sister and I were deciding where to spend the Sunday morning before Christmas, she suggested Grace Community Church in Goshen. I said as long as there were lights and Christmas music, I'd be happy. I was not disappointed. The main sanctuary was beautifully decorated for the season. And even though the music was worshipful and engaging, the message is what hit home. The speaker admonished us not to take the miracle of the season for granted, and took us into the perspective of Mary, a young peasant girl in a small town with simple expectations from life: marry, have a family, keep a household. Then an angel comes a-knockin'. Imagine the mixture of excitement, wonder, and trepidation upon seeing an angel, hearing that she was favored by God, and that she would be pregnant... by the Holy Spirit. Of course God chose the best mom for Jesus. Of course she was spiritually strong and faithful. Yet, she was still human. Imagine Mary trying to explain the situation to her ...

I have what you might call a "melancholy" personality. I don't see myself as a pessimist however, more like a realist. So, I was contemplating "realistically" the headaches of the holidays- I don't care much about decorating, or baking, or cards, or shopping. I get disgusted with the commercialism and secularization of the holiday. But as I was doing my devotions one morning, I came across the familiar passage (Luke 2:10) where the angel says, "I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all people..." Jesus came to Earth, to bring great joy. Not a little bit of joy, but a heavenful amount of joy. And not just for the spiritual, or the wealthy, or the beautiful, or the smart. For ALL people. Even me. Even when I don't feel particularly special, or motivated, or happy. Jesus came to Earth to bring great JOY, in the promise of freedom from sin, and a relationship with a heavenly Father. So I'm setting out on a journey to find jo...

Elizabeth Taylor is still stealing headlines weeks after her death. Who was Liz Taylor? Why was she called “Liz” when she didn’t even like the nickname? How could someone who was so adored by the public seem to be constantly seeking love? I’m too young to appreciate who Elizabeth Taylor was in her glory days. I can look at her pictures, at that fabulous hair, itty bitty waist, gorgeous skin, and dark eyes (some people say her eyes were violet). She was an accomplished actress and Oscar winner, well known for her roles such as Cleopatra . She was actually a British citizen, born in London, ballet dancing virtually from birth. Her father was an art dealer, her mother, a stage actress. Practically after setting foot on American soil at the age of ten, she was in the movies. Less than a decade later, she was pursuing what some considered her second career: marriage. Seven husbands, eight marriages , spanning over 40 years. How could someone so loved by the public struggle to find ...

Multi-tasking is seems so necessary today. I watch TV, write, listen to my kids, text... all at the same time. At work I'll be on the phone while I check my email and fill out paperwork. I'll drive, listen to music, talk on the phone, and go over my next appointment while in the car. How did we ever survive without the ability to do so many things at the same time? How did we ever communicate without ready access to phones, email, fax, social networks, texting, and IM? Having a few days to myself, I've realized that I get a lot more done if I focus on one thing at a time. I write twice as fast when I turn the TV off. Granted, my mom probably told me that 20 years ago when I tried to start my homework in front of the TV at 9:30 at night. Household tasks are much more rewarding when you start and complete them the same day. I had also forgotten the joy of a good mystery novel, read without someone asking where something is or if I can help with something. I think we...

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...

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...

I walked into the last office, making my final delivery for Doctor’s Day. I walked into the small waiting room, and waited patiently for the receptionist to get off the phone. “11:30. April 14th. 11:30. Tuesday. Tuesday. 11:30. 11:30. 11:30. Tuesday. April 14th. Yes, that’s right. No. 11:30. You’re appointment’s at 11:30. 11:30…” I swear this went on for a full five minutes. I stifled a laugh. Obviously the gentleman on the other end was hard of hearing, and perhaps a little cognitively deficient. Even the smallest bit of information just wasn’t translating for him that day. When the receptionist finally ended the call, she sighed and gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s okay,” I answered, flashing a sympathetic look and quickly handing over the carnation intended for the doctor. In my line of work, you have to use some creative communication techniques at times. It is really hard to convey your meaning to someone who can’t hear the words you...

Five hundred children were packed into the elementary school gymnasium. It was assembly time. I watched little faces, some edged with pre-teen boredom, others gleaming with unmerited enthusiasm.. Some kids obviously took pride in their appearance, others dressed for comfort. Some were part of a cute little clique, others tended to drift alone. Some friends seemed unusual combinations- the almost 6-foot-tall fifth grader and his buddy, who came up a little higher than his elbow. Another was tall solid girl with long natural wavy hair and glasses, chatting happily with a petite blonde with a ponytail and name brand clothes. As I scanned the faces, all shapes, colors, and sizes, I wondered what life was like for them. Surely some are happy-go-lucky, enjoying school, and living in a safe, loving home. Others may give that appearance but really struggle with abuse, self-doubt, or poverty. They each had different reactions to receiving awards. Some were obviously purely excited for the recog...