Wildflower Writes

Photo by  Joel M Mathey  on  Unsplash I love the story of the tortoise and the hare. I love knowing that slow and steady progress moves you closer to your goals, even if it takes some time. Time is so relative. A boring afternoon can stretch on for weeks, and ten years ago can seem like yesterday. Ironically, “time flies when you’re having fun” and time drags when you’re struggling. It’s important to remember that “this too shall pass.” It doesn’t matter what it is, it won’t last forever. Terrible twos? They only last a year. Winter weather? Spring is coming. Rookie status? Experience will change that. On the other hand, like the tortoise, it does take an effort to make progress. We can’t repeat the same habits and behaviors and expect different results. Positive change requires intentional effort. One step at a time.

If I could save up a little more money, I could work from home... Someday I'm going to buy that little VW bug convertible... One day I'm going to take that Caribbean cruise... Someday.  My bills will be paid; my house will be clean; my flab will be gone; my life will be organized.  Yet, each day another 24 hours comes and goes, and for every step forward toward one goal, another goal lies tantalizingly out of my grasp.  And I wonder.  Does ANYONE really have it all together?  Or are we all juggling time maintaining our house with building a family or juggling energy keeping a job with building a career? The apostle Paul said, "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want" (Phillipians 4:12 NIV).  There is a line, a tightrope even, that every healthy person must walk.  Everyone should set goals, aim for something greater, commit to personal growth....

Finished with my business at the hospital, I pushed open the massive door with the pretty green EXIT sign above it. I started heading down the three floors I had until I reached ground level. On the third step or so, my heel wobbled and I had to grab the handrail to steady myself. My imagination ran away with me. What if I had fallen? What if I had tumbled head over heels until I landed against the door of the third floor? How long would it take until someone came down that particular staircase? How long would I lay in a pool of my own blood, slowly dying? Or if I were able to make it out into the hallway, crawling on my hands and knees, dizzy from the concussion and dragging my broken leg behind me, would someone help me? With all the nurses and other hospital staff roaming the halls, would anyone stop? Or would they be too busy? Would they think I was being strange and call security? Would they stuff me in an elevator and send me to the ER? Or maybe just kick me down the...

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...

Time to take the leap. Time to stop trying to get people to notice me and my abilities and get out there. Time to send in some queries, and find some paying assignments. Time to see what I’m really made of. Time to blog one more night because I don’t yet have a paying assignment. Time to try and figure out exactly which magazines or publications I would like to write for. Time to take my books back to the library. Time to figure out how to balance life with dreams. Time to figure out the difference between social media networking, and playing on facebook. Time to decide how I really want to spend my time. Time to let some things go. Time to take care of myself. Time to take a vacation. Time to figure out how to fit exercise into the picture. Time to watch what I eat. Time to get de-stressed. Time to figure out where these headaches are coming from. Time for a nap. Time to focus. Time to get it done. Time to get all my ducks in a row. Time to get organized. Time to ma...

I finally finished my work at 5:30, an hour and a half later than I had planned to leave the office. I was on my own for dinner. My husband had brilliantly and lovingly offered to take the children to Chuck E. Cheese for the evening. As I slid into the driver’s seat of my minivan and turned the key in the ignition, I tried to decide what to do. Eating at home would require cooking, and possibly grocery shopping. Wendy’s and Popeye’s were nearby, but a little old hat. By now I was pulling out of the parking lot and heading north. By the time I reached the end of the T-intersection, I thought maybe a barbecue sandwich at Dairy Queen would be the ticket. I headed east toward downtown. By the time I came to the first stop sign, I realized I didn’t really want any ice cream. I headed north. Was there an Arby’s on this side of town? No. Too bad. I needed caffeine, and a Jamocha shake would be perfect. Taco Bell always offers cheap, tasty food, and I could get one of those blue Mountain Dews…...