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 ...

Yesterday, driving down the street to work, I didn’t notice all the stumps along the side of the road. I knew there was a lot of construction, and the trees had been cut down to widen the road. Their remains had been left, leveled to the ground, for months now. Today there was a big yellow excavator blocking half the street. It was making it’s way up one side of the street, apparently using an arrowhead shaped attachment to dig up the stumps of the trees that had once lined the street. The stumps, turned upside down with roots exposed, were huge, gnarly monstrosities aligned along the road. Sometimes I wish I could see people’s roots. What is keeping them upright? Where have they drawn their strength and vitality from? Did they have to struggle to get what they needed out of life? Do their roots run deep or stretch out wide? Some people are ashamed of their roots, even though they are the basis of who we are. Our ancestors, our parents, our friends, and our faith are all parts of who w...

It was after 4:00, and I was grudgingly rushing back to work to meet with a family member at the nursing home. I was focusing on the construction sight at the end of the road, and almost missed my turn. I had one of those dissociative thoughts as I made my turn, that I had narrowly missed driving into destruction. It could be a metaphor for life- that by focusing on all the negative circumstances in life, you inevitably drive your life right into negativity and destruction. Then it occurred to me that it was not called a destruction site. It was a construction site. Even though it looks like a complete mess, each machine, hole, orange sign, and pile of dirt serves a purpose. In time, what now looks like a confused eyesore will be a safer traffic flow pattern with brand new asphalt and signs. Sometimes the roads of life need fixed, too. Too many of us continue down the same paths we’ve always known, and don’t realize they’re filled with potholes until we lose a hubcap or get a flat tire...

I’ve always heard it said, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I always took it as a truism, just like, “one man’s junk is another man’s treasure.” But tonight, I was challenged to think differently. Still in study of “The Truth Project,” God is the originator of creativity. He bestowed various gifts upon humankind to use for His glory. He gave us a desire to use these gifts- to design, to create, to express truths, to create order out of chaos. That is what work is supposed to be, an expression of who God created you to be. So if someone creates something, does that make it beautiful? Is it truly a decision of the beholder whether or not something is beautiful? No. I now believe beauty is a quality in and of itself, like truth, goodness, righteousness, or love. The human body is beautiful, but pornography is ugly. Language is beautiful, but hate is ugly. Music is beautiful, but profanity is ugly. The beauty we are able to see in other people represents God’s ha...