The Greatest of These


I sat in a hotel room in Nashville lamenting the previous six weeks to one that was much wiser than I. My grandmother had died, my man had changed jobs and my daughter had gone completely rogue…all in the course of about ten days. This was the fall that fell.

You’ve got to find a way through this. Your daughter needs you right now. You have to see past your own hurt and anger. I know it’s hard but she needs you to love her.

 Surely she didn’t hear what I had said. Love her? After the stunt she was pulling? Are you kidding me!

Fast forward several weeks and many arguments, groundings, things taken away and tears. I asked an acquaintance of mine who was a former addict but was now in social work what her mom had done during her most difficult days. Her answer? She loved me through it. Even on my ugliest of days my mom saw in me what I could not and she showed me by loving me.

 Did I listen? No. How could I? I was so very angry. My heels were dug in. She WOULD listen to me OR ELSE! Loving her was the last thing I wanted to do.

Two more times from two different people came the advice to love her.

Sometimes the very thing you refuse to do is the exact thing God will ask of you.

We were having another shouting match. I followed her to the bathroom (the bathroom for Pete’s sake!) and was screaming (not for the first time), Your behavior is bullshit! You are tearing this family apart!

 (I’ve never pretended to be a “shiny” Christian on here, only real. I wish my real was prettier and wrapped with a big bow but this was my reality for many months.) Until….

My daughter turned on a dime, looked me square in the face and said, You are being exactly like the very people you are trying to protect me from. You are no different.

If words could leave a handprint, surely I would have had marks across my face. The truth to her words shocked me to silence. She was absolutely right. I had become a venom vomiting, maniacal mom who was bitter not brave, hateful from hurt not helpful, unforgiving, unloving, angry and afraid.

Was she rebelling? Yes. But this isn’t about her. It’s about my response to her….which completely sucked.

Dr. Luke shared these words of Jesus, The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks. (Luke 6:45 NIV bold is mine)

My mouth was pumping out what was in my heart which was full of anger, hurt, bitterness and fear and was a reflection of the words I spoke (screamed.)

Grace could not be heard over the volume of my voice and the wound of my words.

We both retreated to our rooms that night and I knew what I had to do. The next morning after she left for school, I went into her room, got down on my knees like I had done so many times during this storm but instead of praying for her to change, I confessed….

I poured out my anger, bitterness, fear and hurt. I confided in my Father my inability to see the girl he gave me through the fog of fear, the inability to love her like I should because of my own anger and hurt. But that I knew he could love her through me and I was willing for him to do that. I asked him to change me, to create in me a clean heart.

I got up off my knees that day with a peace like I’d not known for many weeks. My situation was no different but I was. (You can read more about that day here… )

Things slowly began to change between us. She began to confide in me more and I began to be able to see her with compassion and love once again. I could see that she was hurting and confused. I don’t want this to sound prettier than it was. It took a lot of conversations, counseling and God interventions to heal but heal we have.

Paul says in 1Corinthians 13:13, But for right now…we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love. (The Message)

 I can have all the faith and hope in the world but if I can’t love someone who’s actions are unlovable, what’s the point?

The Message says it this way, If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing. (1Corinthians 13:2)

 In other words I can teach a Bible study, attend church, listen to Christian music, be faith full but if I can’t love my neighbor who may be different than me, believe different than me, act different than me, look different than me…What. Is. The. Point?

Why share this now? I can’t help but look around and see the venomous vitriol being spewed from every single direction. Name calling, hurtful words, anger, hatred. I get it. I really do. You want more than anything for people to listen. You want them to see your side of things. So you speak louder. But learn from my experience: screaming that someone’s behavior is bull crap or following them around (literally or via the internet) roaring your opinion does not change anyone.

Only love does that.

Love allows for grace to be given and truth to be spoken. Love allows for safe places and soft landings even when we don’t always agree. Love allows for difficult conversations and differences of opinions. Love allows for change to happen. It’s the greatest of these.

And it starts with me.

Fiercely for you!








Too Much and Never Enough

too much not enough

The what if’s got me this past week. Every time I sat down to write, I waged war within. The cursor blinked, I stared. Tapped out a sentence or two then hit the delete button. The cursor blinked, I stared. Hands on the keys, at the ready, to knock the socks off my readers.


It’s not that I don’t have plenty of thoughts. I always have blogs in the queue that I’m working on. I tried different ones on different days. I tried funny but funny falls flat when funky is the feeling. Moving to morose was, well, gloomy. I wrote and erased an entire novel. Or so it seemed.

After a few days of that I decided that I needed a change of scenery. I cleaned. I mowed. I walked around outside (and took more pics of fall wildflowers.) That’s what I do when I need to do some figuring out of things.


Here’s what I came up with:

Nothing crushes creativity quicker than comparison.

 The thing of it is I wasn’t comparing myself to other people. I was comparing myself to the last few posts I’d written. The Wildflower Warrior concept has resonated with so many of you! I’ve loved every message, text, note and art design. You all get it! We were made for more!

This may sound weird but I began to put so much pressure on myself to perform perfectly, to give you, my readers whom I adore, exactly what you needed to read, to resonate with ALL of you EVERY time, to watch the number of reads, shares and likes beat the previous post. I froze.

Pressure to perform perfectly paralyzes productivity.

While I want to continually hone the craft and sharpen the skill of writing, always improving, I cannot compare what resonated with my audience yesterday to what I’m working on today. It kills creativity quickly.


I will be too much for some.

My style isn’t for everyone. For some I’m over the top. I’m too simple or hippy or farmy. I mean who compares women to wildflowers and warriors? Lessons from nature and chickens and weeds? Seriously? And the whole Jesus thing? Enough already. Is that really how you think? You are too much.

So when I sat down to write this past week, I found myself wanting to water it down, making sure I wasn’t too much of anything for anyone. But being something for everyone leaves me left with nothing for no one because I’m exhausted trying to fit in a mold I wasn’t made for.

Yes. I will be too much for some. It’s okay. I’m hoeing my own row. The seeds planted there will produce the harvest I was meant to grow.



For others I will never be quite enough.

Sigh. Oh the words that whirl around in my head on this one!

Who do you think you are? You’re seriously going to push publish on that? No one will like it. No one will get it. You’ll never be a real writer.

 There’s more but you get the picture.

Does anything crush creativity faster than trying to measure up to the critics and complainers, the killjoys and commentators that have nothing nice to say?

Sometimes this is me in my own head. Sometimes this is me speaking for you before you’ve had a chance to read what I’ve written. Sometimes it really is people to whom I will never be enough.


As I’m typing this, I am reminded of an excerpt from Teddy Roosevelt’s speech on April 23, 1910….

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. (bold is mine)

While I may never be enough for some, I want to be brave enough to get in the arena anyhow.

Maybe you get it, this too much and never enough. Maybe you wrestle with it as well. Let’s dare greatly and keep creating, even if we’re too much for some and not enough for others.

Me being me…no makeup, outside, taking pictures with Macey because she needed to go to my thoughtful spot too. 🙂

Be you. It’s what Wildflower Warriors do.

Fiercely for you!


When You End Up in the Ditch

The Cup Plant known to collect rain water in her “cups” that can be used for drinking water in emergencies. She can be found in ditches along roadsides, offering us a cool drink perhaps?

I had been asking Mom for gas money for several days. While I had been watching the needle move towards E, it didn’t really dawn on me that I would run out of gas…oh to be 16 again…until my car sputtered to a halt on my way to school one morning. My sister and I were able to push it off the country road enough to not get hit.

Fortunately for my siblings and me, my then boyfriend, now husband (awww…insert heart emoji’s here) took the same route to school, saw us stranded and pulled over to pick us up. There’s nothing quite like piling in to a ’67 VW with rusted floorboards. But at least his tank was full.

Later that day, I got scolded pretty good by my stepfather for parking in the ditch at the wrong angle. Wait. What? I guess gas couldn’t get to the carburetor because of the angle of the car….or something like that. (To this day I have no knowledge of any of this…I couldn’t even spell carburetor just now!)

I wish I could tell you this was the last time I ended up in a ditch. But, well, life happens, tanks run out, and there you are, parked at a wonky angle in the ditch. I’ve learned a few things through the years….

When you’re running towards E you have to go to a resource that can help you. The logical place to go for gas money was my Mom. This is usually true. What I didn’t know is she couldn’t give me what she herself didn’t have…money for gas. I kept waiting. She kept putting it off. I ended up in the ditch.

Sometimes the actions (or inaction) of others are what put you in the ditch. Had I realized there was no money for gas, I could have caught a ride to school with said hunk of a boy mentioned above.

How many times have I gone to someone who simply did not have the know- how or wherewithal to give me what I needed to prevent me from ending up in the ditch.

I just kept driving.

When you’re running towards E you have to pay attention to the signs. It was naïve (foolish?) of me to think I could just keep going and going and never run out of gas. There were red flags…like the needle that kept creeping closer to empty. My truck today has a signal that lets me know when I’m 50 miles or less to empty. (And believe me, I head to the nearest gas station because that beep makes me panic a little!)

How many times have I ignored signs and red flags and beeps and just kept going? Oh, hello, Mr. Ditch. We must stop meeting like this. I had no clue we’d be together again so soon. Oh wait. Yes I did. I chose to ignore them!

 I just kept driving.

When you’re running on E you don’t get to choose where you park, you just land where you run out of gas. It’s almost always not in a convenient spot…

Sometimes it’s in the hospital because you’ve ignored your body’s symptoms. Sometimes it’s with a counselor because you’ve ignored your feelings and thoughts. Sometimes it’s in divorce court because you’ve ignored warning signs in your marriage. Sometimes it’s because of someone else’s actions or lack thereof. Sometimes it’s in the middle of a store and you start crying for not any one thing but a million.  And you can’t stop.

We just keep driving.

The Bull Thistle…completely dried up…just like us when we “bull” our way through and keep driving.

No matter the reason, no matter the how, no matter the why, we have a Rescuer. He doesn’t look at us and think You idiot. (Though he may shake his head on occasion…) He looks at his children with compassion. He doesn’t ignore our cries from the ditch…no matter how we ran out of gas, no matter what angle we “parked” the car…he hears us…

I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

out of the mud and mire;

he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.

He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord. (Psalm 40:1-3)

 Oh. My. Soul!

Chicory coming up THROUGH a crack in the road. 

He is the Resource that never runs out. He is the One with all the answers. He is the Fuel that fills my tank. He is the Nemesis to my enemy. He is the Light that shows the way. He is Breath when I cannot breathe. He is.

He is the Lifter of my head when I’m weary. He is the Hearer of my heart. He is the collector of my tears. He is the Helper in times of trouble. He is Firmness under my feet. He is the Rock on which I stand. He is.

He Rescues. Redeems. Restores. Amen.





Crying Harder Than It Hurt

Ironweed closeup.

I’m not sure what happened. One minute I was reaching to turn the garage light on and the next minute I’m bouncing my way down the wooden steps, making sure to hit all four of them with my rear before landing on the concrete floor.

I sat there in disbelief for a few seconds. After doing a quick inventory to make sure everything was still connected and not broken, I curled up in the fetal position on the dirty garage floor and cried. Sobbed really.

I was crying way harder than it hurt. Oh sure, my butt was going to have some serious bruises but for a woman who has gone through natural childbirth not once but four (out of five) times this seemed a bit extreme.

Yet I laid there. In the dark. On the cold floor. All alone. And I wailed.

It wasn’t the bruises on my bum but the hurt in my heart that was causing this wave of emotion. The previous 18 months had demanded that I be brave. Commanded some colossal courage. Life can take you through those seasons sometimes, can’t it?

So often during that year and a half, I had held back tears and choked back any real emotion because there simply was no time for it. They came out that day…spilling over into the dust of the garage floor….

Job change, a renegade kid, death, loss of friendships, moves, being alone, loneliness, grieving what was, facing the unknown…bullying me, taunting me, daring me to give up. Whispering to me that only the weak cry uncle, only the weak cry at all.

Such a lie.

Somewhere along the way we (Wildflower Warriors) have convinced ourselves that we are invincible. Until we’re not. Then we wonder where it went wrong.

King David was a slayer of lions, bears and giants. He fought battles like a boss, killing tens of thousands of his enemy. He was confidently courageous, powerfully potent, gallantly gritty, undaunted, unafraid and handsome to boot.

Until you read the Psalms….

Answer me when I call to you, O my righteous God. Give me relief from my distress; be merciful to me and hear my prayer. (Psalm 4:1)

The daring distress.

Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my sighing. Listen to my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray. (Psalm 5:1-2)

Sighing: to let out one’s breath audibly, as from sorrow, weariness or relief.

Warriors weary.

I am worn out from groaning; all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. (Psalm 6:6)

 Warriors weep.

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? (Psalm 13:1-2)

 Warriors feel forgotten.

When I am afraid, I will trust in you. (Psalm 56:3)

 Warriors feel fear.

That’s just five verses from five different chapters. All throughout the Psalms David emotes. Unabashedly. And it’s okay. In fact it’s more than okay. It’s necessary! Otherwise you end up crying harder than it hurt.

In those times of demanding distress, weariness and weeping, feeling forgotten and being afraid, David is honest about how he’s feeling. He goes to the One who can make a difference. That’s what fierce warriors do.

Courage can be found when I cry out to God from a cold concrete floor. He can take the mud I made from the dust and the tears and give me eyes to see healing in the hurt, goodness in the grief and hope in my heart. (John 9)

Fiercely for you!




It Starts With Me


Are you okay? I asked the woman as I approached her.

Yeah! I was already having a bad day. Then THIS happened!

My man and me were headed out for a matinee when we rounded a curve to find a woman standing in the ditch crying, her hoopty of a car obviously broken with the tire pointing 90 degrees in the opposite direction of which she was headed.

She was beside herself sobbing so I did the only thing I knew to do in the moment…I asked her her name then gave her a hug.

I pieced bits of Nikki’s story together in between the Lucille Ball like sobs and stutter breathing. I began to see that her car wasn’t the only thing broken. She had just dropped her boyfriend off at work when she got a call from her daughter that the daughters boyfriend had stranded her in a parking lot in Sharonville with her one year old who hadn’t eaten yet and was crying because he was hungry. Mom can you please come pick us up?

She didn’t have the money for gas to drive all the way over there but you can’t let your kid be stranded. What else could she do but go pick her up and try to figure out how to get some food for the baby. And then this happened. She started sobbing again.

 She had called her Dad who was mad that she was driving to Sharonville. She called her brother who was trying to get over to help but wasn’t sure when he could leave work. She couldn’t call her boyfriend because he would go back to jail…(I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know.)

Her husband had left her nine months ago for another woman and had accused her of doing drugs. She assured me she wasn’t and even showed me her arms…see, I don’t have any needle marks.

 She didn’t know where they would stay tonight because not only was this her mode of transportation, it was her home when work was scarce and dresser for all she owned.

My man was standing in the background, taking it all in, letting me do what I do…listen and soothe, comfort and calm. He is a fixer of things not necessarily people so his mind went immediately to what it would take to get her car fixed.

I know what some of you are thinking. I had those thoughts too. This woman was a hot mess of broken down and busted up. Her life was a domino of poor choices. She fit such stereotypical molds that it would have been easy to tell her to get her act together and walk away shaking my head in disgust. To say, You made this bed…

 As her story continued, I prayed Lord let me see her as you do…. made in Your image.

 It’s easy isn’t it? It’s easy to let skepticism replace compassion, to let animosity blind our humanity. Cynicism crowds out sympathy. Indifference becomes our go to instead of grace. This world is wearying with want. It’s easy to allow our hearts to harden.

Compassion…a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering…has to start somewhere.

I could get on my soapbox and get all up in your grill here…guilting you…I mean…

We could talk about how many times Jesus was moved with compassion when he saw people hungry and sick. How he fed and healed them without asking how in the heck they got there.

We could talk about how Jesus met the woman at the well and saw more than someone who had been married five times plus a live in. Or how Jesus stood in the middle of the circle of Pharisees with the woman caught in adultery daring the elites to throw the first stone.

We could talk about Jesus explaining to the disciples that when you feed, clothe, care for and visit the least of these, you are feeding, clothing, caring for and visiting Jesus himself.

We could. But I don’t want to sound preachy and I sure as heck don’t have my act all together. Compassion is a condition of the heart and Lord knows my heart is deceitful on the best of days.

It IS hard. We AREN’T Jesus. People ARE a mess. This world IS broken.

But it has to start somewhere.

I believe the timing was divine. We were given an opportunity to choose: the gavel of judge and jury or the cloak of care and compassion. We may not always get it right but we chose the latter this time.

Todd looked at me and I at him, knowing we were supposed to help her get her car fixed. So he did what he does best and started making calls to some of his connections (my man knows people…)

I gave her another hug and whispered in her ear, We may not be able to fix everything that’s broken but we can at least help you get your car fixed.

The look of disbelief and relief was worth the cost of the repair. I have no idea what will happen to Nikki, if she will continue to tip over the domino of poor decisions. But I do know this, she needed someone to cut her a break not cut her down.

No. I can’t fix everything but I can do this one thing. I can show compassion.

It starts with me.

Fiercely for you!


PS Ironically we missed the movie we were supposed to see. The Glass Castle is a true story about a family who moved often because of bill collectors, lived in their car when necessary and struggled to survive. We traded reel life for real life that day.

Simple. Powerful. Prayer.


God have mercy on me, a sinner. (Luke 18:13NIV)

I am a word junky. I am a woman. I love to talk. I love to write. Sometimes I have word gusts of tornado like proportions. Sometimes I think I wear God’s (and Todd’s) ears out with my ramblings and meanderings. I want to make sure he understands what I’m asking. I want to dot every “i” and cross every “t” so there are no mistakes. Anybody else?

But what if I don’t know exactly? What if I haven’t a clue the details of what I really need? Or want? Or desire? There are times when elaborate just isn’t in my vocabulary.

Simple prayer is still powerful prayer.

I lay awake with anticipation of a meeting taking place the next morning. I had many things to share but also wanted to be concise, professional and heard. And so I prayed this every time I woke up, Lord, don’t let me word vomit at tomorrow’s meeting.

 He answered!

I have a friend who recently moved away. She is in the process of getting her family settled in to a new home and new schools as well as trying to make connections herself. She texted a couple of us to be praying about a get together of some ladies from a church she has been attending. She shared her fears and anticipations. Our big bold prayer for her was this: Dear God, please don’t let it be awful.

 He answered!

This is a note I ran across (and kept) from many years ago. It’s from my youngest daughter who was 7 ish and is now 19 and in college.


He has been answering this prayer ever since.

In Luke 18 we see two different styles:

The Pharisee with his Glamour Shot style of look-at-me-and-my-fancy-prayer-life.

The tax collector who simply asks for mercy because he is sinner.

Jesus’ response? Old fancy pants got scolded for being too full of himself. While the tax collector’s humility was recognized.

Simple, humble prayers can sometimes be the most effective ones. Jesus doesn’t ask us to be fancy. Just honest.

Simple, humble prayers leave my needs in the hands of a Father who knows way better than I what the answer should look like.

Simple, humble prayers can be bold and brave, brazen and beautiful.

Can we be specific? Absolutely! But sometimes my laundry list of laments limit my ability to see God working when his answer didn’t fit in the labyrinth of detail I laid out for him.

There is somehow a sweet relief to not have to worry about the how’s and trust God to work it out for our good. Because we can trust him. He hears us. He loves us. He wants the best for us.

In the words of the Psalmist we can bring our simple requests before him each morning. We can pray to not word vomit or not let it be awful or help me or have mercy and then wait expectantly for him to answer

Because he will.

Simple. Powerful. Prayer.

Fiercely for you!


We Were Made for More (Part 2: Warriors)

Then the Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.” (Genesis 2:18)


I turned 52 this month. If you’re 32 that seems old and if you’re 72 it seems pretty young. It makes me reflect. With the average age of a woman’s life expectancy in America being 82 (ish) I have 30 more years. Morbid? Maybe. But that reality is what drives me to want to live as was originally intended.

The word God uses when he creates woman is often translated helper or helpmeet, giving it more of a domesticated flair like hamburger helper or homework helper or meet-your-man-at-the-door-with-dinner-ready-helper. While there is nothing wrong with marriage and managing a household, if we leave it here we leave out a whole slew of women.

What of those who never marry, never have children, are now widowed? They are still women. Did God leave them out? Make them less than? Has their value dried up with age?

Not at all.

The original word for helper is Ezer…

The word ezer appears in the Old Testament twenty-one times—twice for the woman in Genesis 2:18 and 20, three times for nations Israel turned to for military assistance when they were under attack, and sixteen times for God. Whenever ezer appeared—for the three nations, obviously, but also for God—it was always within a military context. God is His people’s helper, defender, deliverer, sword and shield.

God’s daughter’s were named after his very own nature and character….a strong helper, defender with sword and shield. God didn’t create woman to be an assistant. She was created from the get go to be an equal, strong and powerful force, an ally to man. A warrior.


Sadly, however, we went from badass warrior to just plain bad with the crisp crunch of an apple (or so it’s portrayed in all the pictures.)


We’ve been living in the shadow of that tree ever since.


We were made for more.

It’s time for fierce Ezer’s to rise up to our original intent. To be what we were meant to be…strong and powerful women who fight for the good of the kingdom, who battle beside our brother’s for good. To be an ally. It’s time to step out of the shadow and into your calling as a warrior.

The shadow of that tree brings with it words like: insecure, gossips, illogical, emotional, afraid, can’t be trusted, high maintenance, catty, victim, damaged, not worthy, unseen, unlovable, unheard, hateful, mean, terrible friend, loud, too emotional, too fat, too thin, too ignorant, too strong, too weak, too pretty, too ugly, too soft. Too much and yet never enough.

We were made for more.

Being an ezer is more of an ethos then it is a vocation. It’s more about knowing who you are because of Whose you are in whatever role you are. It’s about understanding that you are made in the image of Almighty God who sees you, loves you and hears you. You are a woman of valor, strong and powerful not because of anything you do but because of who you were created to be.

Ezer women are:

Leaders like Deborah who led Israel to victory over the Canaanites when no one else would. (Judges 4-5) Many of you are leading your families, providing for, nurturing and loving your people because no one else would. Many of you are leaders in your workplaces, ministries and as volunteers.

Fighters like Jael who destroyed a great warrior with nothing more than a tent peg through the temple because he meant to harm her people. (Judges 4) Many of you are fighters, doing what you must do in order to survive, in order to save your people from harm. You are capable, creative, and clever.

Risk takers like Rahab the prostitute who agreed to hide men of God with the assurance they would save her and her family from destruction. She left her life of prostitution and would later become the mother of Boaz who married Ruth (another Ezer) who became a part of the lineage of Jesus found in Matthew 1. Many of you leave a life of less than to become something more. Risking everything you’ve known for something different, better.

Ezer women are:

Tender like Mary the mother of Jesus who spent her time rearing and nurturing the very Son of God. Loving, praying for, feeding, disciplining, training. Many of you are staying home to raise up the next generation of difference makers.

Tough like Esther who had the courage and grit to go up against the evil ways of a man who would see her people destroyed. Many of you are doing all you can to look evil in the eye and not flinch. You stand strong, unwavering in the face of ugly to save your brothers and sisters.

Doers like Tabitha in Acts 9:36 who was always doing good and helping the poor. Many of you work tirelessly for the least of these…those who are hungry, naked, or in trouble…often quietly and without fanfare. You just do.

Faithful like Anna who spent years looking for the coming Messiah. Widowed at a young age she never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying. (Luke 2:37) Many of you have spent countless hours praying for your prodigal friends, spouses, kids, for answers to hard questions. Worshiping even in the unknown and unanswered.

All Ezer women.




May we know them.

May we be them.

Text Over Photo1503797844821

Leave the shadow of that dang tree because…

We were made for more.

Fiercely for YOU!








We Are Made For More (Part 1 Wildflowers)


I was walking a country road by my house earlier this month, praying through some things and thinking about some of my girlfriends and the things they were experiencing…fun things like new babies and grandbabies, a booming business, retirement, a new job, a quiet season of life. Hard things like a cancer diagnosis, aging parents, prodigal kids, divorce, accidents, worry….

As I was rounding a bend in the road I began to notice all the flowers blooming. They were in the fields, along side the road, beside a creek bed. They were blooming everywhere. It didn’t matter the terrain or the circumstance, there they were, standing tall and strong, flowers blooming with beauty, just simply being.

There’s the lovely grace of this one…


…called Queen Ann’s Lace. You will notice these on roadsides and in fields. From a distance they all look the same but upon further observation each one has its own distinctness, a delicate uniqueness.

Queen Ann’s Lace is actually from the carrot family and has a long edible root. When we are each being our distinct selves, bringing our varying looks, gifts, talents, personalities to the table we can not only feed off each other, we can feed others as well.

Imagine a world where women aren’t competing to be like each other, comparing and envying, backstabbing and putting each other down, gossiping and ganging up on each other, insecure and unsure. Instead of feeding others we devour each other. No.

We were made for more.

Women were meant to come together, bringing with us our unique selves so others can see fields of beauty and grace, the same but different and after having spent time with us, people walk away hungry no more.

We are like the wildflowers….full of beauty and grace.

Then there’s this gorgeousness tucked in here and there among fields of weeds…


…Tall Ironweed…the name is descriptive of her height and stem…tall and strong so she can rise up above the weeds and bask in the glory of the sun bringing the beauty of her color to the area around her.

We were made for more.

Imagine a world where women rise above, bringing beauty among the weeds. Imagine a world where women grow strong in the Word so they are confident in who they are and Whose they are so they no longer compare themselves to each other but bask in the beauty of who they were created to be bringing color to a dank, dark world.

We are like the wildflowers…full of strength and dignity.

This little blue flower can be found almost exclusively beside the road…


…Chicory blooms in the morning but wilts by noon, losing all her color. Not to worry she’s back the next morning blooming as bright as ever. Her roots can be roasted, ground and used to flavor coffee or as coffee itself. Cars pass her by without nary a glance.

You see, often times we (women) have days that make us wilt by noon (or sooner, yes?), having lost all color and feeling as if we blend into the background of dishes, diapers and daily grind.

We were made for more.

Even on our wilt-iest of days, we know that morning will come and with it new mercies and new blooms. We know that when life is hectic and busy and everyone is passing us by…we are not unseen. Our Father sees us and even when our blooms are wilted he will use our roots. Roots that are grounded in Christ bring the best flavor to a world who needs to taste grace and truth, mercy and love, wholeness and healing.

We are like the wildflowers…full of hope and flavor.

I was walking our property when I spotted this gem…


…the Orange Jewelweed who at first glance seems to be hanging from nothing. Looking closer you can see the delicacy of the connection it has to the main stem of the plant. Juice from the stem of this plant will relieve the burning sensation you get from a Stinging Nettle plant.

Everyone has gotten burned by a “Stinging Nettle.” Our connection to the stem…ahem…Vine (John 15)…is crucial for healing. You may feel like you are dangling dangerously close to losing your grip…it’s ok…don’t let go, that tiny connection is all you need to remain in Him and connected to the One who brings relief to the burn. Staying connected allows healing, healing allows growth, growth allows fruit, fruit allows others to see Who it was that applied the juice that healed the burn.

We are like the wildflowers…delicately connected to the One who heals.

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So many of you who will read this are like these wildflowers: full of grace, rising above, tall and strong among the weeds, feeling the wilt that life can bring but you keep getting up the next day blooming, and staying delicately connected to the Vine.

Just like the wildflower, you have no idea of the true beauty you exude by simply being you…you just are. The world could use more Wildflower Women like you….with grace in her heart and flowers in her hair. (Mumford and Sons)

Fiercely for YOU!


PS It’s giveaway time!! Sign up to receive this blog via email…all new sign ups will be put in the drawing. Already signed up? Great! Simply share this post on your social media page and let me know you did. Or you can tag 2 Wildflower Women in the comments section of my social media pages. Anyone who comments below will also be put in the drawing.

What’s the prize? Beautiful linen satchets filled with calming lavender from Emory James Fine Linens.










Meditation is Not a Dirty Word


I’m so worried about my daughter. I talked to her the other day and found out she’s meditating. I pray she’s not getting caught up in some other religion or cult or something.

 I meditate.

 You DO?? But we are Christians. Isn’t that what other religions do?

This was the gist of a conversation I had recently with the Mom of a college student. To answer her questions: Yes I do. And yes, I suppose other religions practice meditation but it is not solely an “other religion” thing.

So let’s talk about that and a couple other reasons why meditation is thought to be a dirty word for so many.

1.) Because it’s an eastern religion or hippy/vegan thing to do.

Isaac did it: He went out to the field one evening to meditate. (Genesis 24:63)

 David did it. A lot. All throughout the Psalms he meditates on God’s unfailing love, God’s works and wonders, his law, precepts and promises.

If the above two Bible giants didn’t convince you, check this out…

When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. (Luke 2:17-19 bold is mine)

Mary, the very mother of Jesus did it. She pondered, meditated, thought about, reflected on all she had seen and heard.

So why have we allowed this very biblical practice to become something that only “others” do?

2.) People don’t know how to meditate or what meditation really is.

Maybe you think you have to sit cross legged on the floor, wrists on your knees, middle finger touching the thumb, eyes closed in preparation to “ohm it out.”

Meditation is a continued or extended thought; reflection; contemplation. It’s a stilling of the mind, body and soul, thinking upon or pondering of something.

Not a dirty word.

There are several apps you can download that will walk you through a session. I happen to use one called Headspace. He talks you through breathing, being aware of surrounding sounds, being aware of how your body feels, what thoughts you’re thinking, visualization. No ohms required. (Plus his accent is very soothing. Smile.)

I will often meditate after I’ve had my quiet time, which gives me ample things to ponder.

Give it a try. Ten minutes a day for ten days. That’s it.

3.) People don’t have time or won’t take the time.

In the movie Eat, Pray, Love, Julia Roberts’ character travels abroad because life went wonky for her. One of her challenges along the way was to meditate. It shows her sitting in the typical meditative position, but fidgeting like crazy, wondering how much time has gone by. She finally opens her eyes to find that one whole minute had passed.

Can you relate?

We live in a culture where busy is given a badge of honor and being still is a foreign concept. When I said give it ten minutes for ten days, I could here some of you prickle and wonder where in the world you would find that much time in your day to sit and do nothing. And for TEN whole days! Seriously? Yep.

Busy isn’t bad…until busy keeps you from being able to still your mind enough to concentrate or be engaged in the moment or sleep. There are so many benefits to meditation, which leads me to the next reason why people don’t/won’t do it.

4.) People don’t value it.

 If there’s really nothing in it for you, why do it? After all, we ARE busy people. Time IS precious. So what are the benefits exactly? Here are some that have been scientifically proven…


Where there is peace and meditation there is neither anxiety or doubt.

(St. Francis de Sales)

5.) We live in a TLDR society.

 A what? That was my question as well when one of my daughters said this is why she thinks people don’t meditate. It stands for Too Long, Didn’t Read. We are quickly becoming a scan-and-go society that gets bored very easily. There is an article in the Washington post that talks about people not being able to read longer, more involved books because our minds are becoming accustomed to quick hits of information.

We are becoming less and less able to concentrate for longer periods of time. So for me to ask you to sit and be still for ten minutes…I may as well be asking you to sit for eternity.

Meditation helps. It helps to rewire our overstressed brain to concentrate more, to slow down and absorb our surroundings, to think clearer.

I love the verse, May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer. (Psalm 19:14) There will be no meditations of my heart, no pondering what’s in there, if I don’t meditate.

Why is that so important? Because out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. (Matthew 12:34)

So, I’m taking back the practice of meditation. I’m taking back the art of being still, quieting my mind, listening to my surroundings and my body. I’m taking back the call to Be still and know (Psalm 46:10) by being still and knowing!

No. Meditation is not a dirty word!

Fiercely for YOU!





Sunrises and Salutations


20170721_060414The hour was early. The predawn light lit our way as we walked the stairs leading to the beach where a few others sacrificed sleep for scenery. We sat on the sand, waiting, watching. Would she come? Would she rise?

We stared off just beyond the horizon, knowing in our minds and hoping in our hearts. All was quiet except for the waves rolling in and out…each person silent to their own thoughts as the anticipation was building.

Then just like that, there she was peeking at us where water meets the sky…

20170721_060553A new day had begun.

As I sat there marveling at the beauty before me, thanking the Lord for this spectacular view, I was reminded of several reasons why sunrises are so vital to me. A sunrise means a new day. A new day means…

New Mercy

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. (Lamentations 3:22-23)

A new day means a do-over. Messed up yesterday? No problem! Today is a chance to restore, redeem and re-do. Because of the Lord’s love for us, his compassion towards us, the sun will rise bringing with it new hope and a second chance.

We can ‘fess up our mess up and move on because God is faithful to bring us another sunrise, another day dawning bright with promise and expectancy. Great is your faithfulness Lord, even when ours ebbs and flows like the waves of the sea.

On those days when life is all consuming, our troubles seem endless, our sorrow too great to bear…let the sunrise remind you, his love is great, his compassion is unfailing.

A new day means…

20170721_061027New Joy

…weeping may remain for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)

Many of my friends are experiencing grief. Not just from death but from a myriad of other things too. Loss of relationships, friendships, divorce, moving away, other people’s poor decisions, change, kid trouble, a job….so much to weep for, to grieve over.

The dark of night lays heavy, trying to suffocate the very last breath from us. We cry oceans of tears, emotion crashing in like a tidal wave. We fear trusting the ebb and flow of life…we don’t want to feel the hurt, pain and anguish that the dark can bring. We worry we will feel the heavy forever. We wonder when. When will it get better? When will this darkness lift?

IMG_20170720_060711629_HDRThen there’s a peek of promise on the horizon as the sun rises, bringing with her a new dawn, a new hope, a new joy. It may not happen overnight but it will happen. The sunrise tells us so. It may not look like what you thought it would because it’s a new day.

A new normal. A new routine. A new experience. A new dream. A new day.

We can trust the One who sets the moon and sun in place, who determines night and day. Genesis 8:22 tells us…

As long as the earth endures,

seedtime and harvest,

cold and heat,

summer and winter,

day and night

will never cease.

Hang in there. The darkness will not last forever. Morning will come and with it sweet joy.

20170721_061939A new day means…

New strength

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. (2 Corinthians 4:16)

Day by day. We want to know if things are going to be okay tomorrow or next week, month or year. We want to know if we’ll have the strength to endure what might be and all the what if’s life can bring. We do lose heart if we think too far ahead. It wears us out, mind, body and soul.

God gives us renewed strength for this day and this day only. Worry taps into fear instead of faith. Worry weakens our spiritual muscles, leaving us vulnerable.

Trust tells fear to take a giant leap. Trust tells those doubts about the future that you believe in the faithfulness of your Father. You trust him to provide exactly what you need for today. Renewed strength to see you through whatever it is you may be facing, whatever mountain you are climbing, whatever valley you are walking, whatever.

All of these thoughts as the sun peeks over the horizon where water meets sky. You can do this. Morning will come and with it new mercies, new joy and renewed strength. Just like the sun, so shall you rise with the courage to do hard things.


Fiercely for YOU!