Wildflower Writes

Photo by  Alexander Milo  on  Unsplash   There’s a quote by C.S. Lewis- You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending. Words like this remind us that a situation is never hopeless, and we’re never helpless. In every dark place there is still light to be found. In any kind of pain, there can be healing. No matter how powerless we feel, we can always choose our attitude and our response. Change is hard. It requires courage, persistence, and faith. And it always seems like the initial steps don’t matter, don’t make a difference. The fact is, if you take 2000 steps, you’ve walked a mile. It’s just a matter of continuing in the right direction. Whatever is in your way right now, don’t give up and don’t lose hope.

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 ...

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. ...

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...

I gave blood the other day. For most people, that's no big deal. I have overcome great obstacles to be able to give blood. When I was 12, my ear started bleeding after I got them pierced. I saw it in the mirror and nearly passed out. When I was 19, I gave blood for the first time in college. I got so dizzy I had to lay on the floor for 45 minutes instead of sipping orange juice. When I was 34, I gave blood at my daughter's school. I passed out. The nurse called my parents to take my daughter and me home. I've given blood a couple times since, always with fear and trepidation that I might have an embarrassing episode. I have to focus on my breathing, be sure not to look at the needle or the tube or the bag, and think about anything else except where I am and what I'm doing (I have a very active imagination). So giving blood is like a rite of passage for me, overcoming a long-held fear of... what? Maybe pain, or death. But when I got the text that my blood typ...

" It's Friday, but Sunday's coming ." This phrase comes from the sermon of an African American Baptist preacher, S.M. Lockridge, who rubbed shoulders with Martin Luther King, Jr. and Billy Graham. The gist of the sermon was, like Good Friday, when believers watched their Savior go through torture and death, it felt like everything they lived for was gone. All their dreams for salvation died, as Jesus breathed His last. Sometimes we get to those points in our lives of utter dark ness and despair. We don't know where to turn or what to do next, and we would give anything to escape the pain. But Sunday's coming. In God's timing, Jesus returned to earth to comfort and instruct His believers, and give them hope for the future. In His timing, your blackest, darkest times will see the glow of a new horizon, It's hard to have faith in the waiting, but God has proven over and over that He is faithful. He loves you and He will see you through to Sunday. ...

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...

Continued from 6/12 post… Wendy slept fitfully for the rest of the afternoon and into the night. She didn’t want to leave her oasis in the dark living room. She never heard her mom come in. Every time she awakened, she would try to get back to sleep, to escape the pain. At 3:00 in the morning, her mind wouldn’t allow her any more sleep. She stared straight up at the ceiling. She felt so hollow, so desperate for answers. “God?” There was no answer. She felt a little silly, speaking into the darkness, but felt compelled to continue. “I know. I haven’t talked to you since I was a kid. I just don’t know where else to turn.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “God, I love my daddy. I can’t imagine my life without him. Please let him make it. Take away the cancer. Please, God.” She stared into the darkness. There were no flashes of light, no ringing bells, no indication her prayer had reached past the ceiling of her house. She knew it was irrational to believe that God would...

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 ...

It was a rotten morning. I arrived at work late. Almost as soon as I walked in the door, a nurse administrator approached me, angry, asking what I knew about an email she had received from corporate. I was caught in the middle and I still had to get my Monday morning report done before the 8:30 meeting. From there I got about half a dozen calls from people who needed something from me right away, and I still had catching up to do from the week before. I was physically tired, emotionally spent, and in a depressed mood. It was only 10 AM. As I tried to gear up to meet with a case worker, I realized I was not my usual self. I didn’t want to be nice and I didn’t want to make small talk. The bright spot was a young man in street clothes who held a door for me. That little bit of kindness was like a ray of sunshine slicing through the clouds of my dark mood. On my way back to the office from the hospital, I caught a snippet of Insight for Living on WFRN. Chuck Swindoll was talkin...

A lot of people don’t know why today is called “Good Friday.” After all, a man died a horrible, gruesome death. What’s so good about that? “Good” doesn’t seem adequate to describe the magnitude of the act demonstrated on the cross. One God/man took on the entire pandemic of sin, from Adam until the end of time, upon his shoulders. He accepted the penalty of death in the most humiliating and painful way possible. Such powerful act should be described as “great,” “wonderful,” or “awesome,” not merely “good.” Jesus’ act was good, though, in a purely moral sense. He took the punishment we deserved upon Himself. He laid down His life so we might have eternal life. It’s hard to think about the suffering He had to endure for me to be saved from my sins. I wasn’t even able to watch “The Passion” for two years after it was released, because it was hard to conceive that level of commitment under those circumstances. The song, “Feel the Nails” by Ray Boltz haunts me especially this time o...