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...

I'm at a point in my life (mid-way?) where I don't want my own fears and insecurities to keep me from living my fullest life. So many times I feel an inclination or prompt to connect with someone, to say something (positive) I am thinking, or to try to get to know them better. In the past, I've brushed off those feelings, because reaching out to other people is hard. What if they don't like me or think I'm weird for saying something? So, lately, I've been trying to act on impulses to connect with people or show kindness. I believe the Holy Spirit is often behind these prompts, which means there is a reason for me to be certain places at certain times, and maybe there are things that only I can do or say. I don't want to miss any of these opportunities. But sometimes I wonder, is it me, or is it God? When I'm pulling u p to the door of my childhood Sunday School teacher's hous e, who left our church after decades of service... I ask myself, Why am...

I think that people reach their mid-life crisis (I’m pretty sure everyone has one) when they realize that time is going by so fast, they can’t keep up any more. It’s like the moment when your child passes you by in a talent or skill. Weren’t you just teaching him how to sing a nursery rhyme, and now he’s performing in front of others? Weren’t you just showing her how to kick a ball, and now she’s winning soccer championships? Around the same time, your child believes he or she is so much smarter than you. I don’t mean when you can no longer help them with their math homework. I mean your child’s perceived reality is that you can’t possible know all the right answers or give good advice and you are basically clueless to the real world. While your child is dealing with a new identity crisis: Who am I? Where am I going? What do I want to do with my life?- you start to have one as well. You may have spent the last 12 to 15 years in the role of a parent- maybe in the same job or field...

How does a treeline form? I’m looking at the trees surrounding my kids’ school, and the tops form a fairly smooth line. You would think, with the wide variety of trees, it would be more uneven and choppy at the top. Instead, the line itself rises and falls in a series of shallow undulating waves, with all the trees right next to each other coming up to approximately the same height. I wonder if it has to do with the amount of sunlight available to the leaves. Maybe once the tree grows to the height of the surrounding trees, it no longer has to fight for sunlight. Maybe all the trees were planted at the same time, although my guess is that they were here before the school or the playground. Maybe the slope of the land affects the height of the trees, since it might affect how much water is collected in each place. I’m always thinking. It’s like the little “why” that started when I was a little girl never died. Usually I think about people or relationships or problems. Someti...

Continued from 4/18 post… With alarm, Wendy noticed the two boys walking her direction. She could not be seen like this, almost out of control. Despite the downpour she began walking toward the parking lot. As soon as she passed the front gate, she broke into a jog, then a run. She began sprinting toward the “A9” mounted on a pole that designated her parking area. She didn’t see other people, or cars, as tears blurred her vision and mixed in with the rain, washing over her face. She jammed the key into the lock, swung open the door to her red Corolla, and sat quickly, slamming the door. She swallowed and blinked, trying to regain control, but then crumpled. The sobs came out loudly now, and she pounded her steering wheel. “Why daddy, why?” she screamed. She had called in sick at work that day, not able to face anyone. She tried to escape the inner turmoil by going to the park, but it had caught up with her. The cancer was supposed to be gone. When he was diagnosed the first time, both ...