Wildflower Writes

  Photo by  Clay Banks  on  Unsplash I am amazed when I follow the stories of talented individuals who achieved success with a lot of personal sacrifice and hard work.   As inspiring as they are, it’s everyday people who beat incredible odds that really challenge me. I watched Night School , a documentary that showcased students attending an Indianapolis Excel Center. Excel Centers are adult high schools- where you take in-person classes to earn your high school diploma, rather than take a High School Equivalency test. Working for Goodwill, I’ve heard heartfelt success stories, but I wasn’t prepared for Greg’s story. Driven to become a better dad and provider, Greg begins taking classes to get his diploma. His search for a better job is further complicated by his criminal record. His brother ends up in the hospital with a gunshot wound. His 3-year-old daughter is epileptic. Each obstacle is gut-wrenching, but he doesn’t lose his resolve, even when he finds o...

It's Good Friday. I've always struggled with that title. When do we say a day is good when someone dies? I know the answer. I know Good Friday marks the day Jesus died on the cross, taking on the sins of the world to die with Him. But right now I'm considering the moment he washes the feet of his betrayer. The time he spends praying in agony, anticipating the torture he will endure. His best friends deserting Him. Being accused of countless lies, and choosing to remain silent. The angry faces of men and women shouting "Crucify!" knowing it was for these souls He would choose to die. The agonizing scourging before being mocked and spit upon by soldiers. The rough wood on His torn flesh as he struggles to carry His cross uphill. Being placed on display, naked, before His own mother. Offering hope to a thief even as He struggles to breathe. Finally, completing the work He came to earth to do and breathing His last. Could anything but supernatural love spur this...

I was pulling into my driveway, just returning from a last minute shopping trip. I still didn’t have all the ingredients I needed to make a broccoli salad for Easter dinner and I had picked up some Puffs, decongestant and Vitamin Water to treat my nasty cold. It occurred to me, in bailing on most of my plans to go into a Benadryl-induced coma, I wasn’t going to have time to buy an Easter outfit or got a haircut before Sunday morning. I felt like such a loser. What kind of Easter was this going to be, anyway? I hadn’t made time to color eggs or buy Easter outfits for my kids prior to our Spring break trip. I hadn’t participated with Lent, Maundy Thursday, or Good Friday services. Our choir cantata was taking place the next weekend, since part of the choir was gone on vacations as well. The color of my nose would suggest celebrating another holiday as a certain reindeer. My kids weren’t even going to be home until the wee hours of the morning. Just another Sunday, I guess. As I...