Some flowers live in lovely gardens.  They are well-tended, fussed over, and taken care of.  They are often ostentatious and very appreciated.  Everyone notices them.  They are protected and treasured.  Everyone loves them. 

Not these little guys. 
I found these small wildflowers growing in the dark, near a woods, and in weak soil.  They grew all by themselves, with no one to look at them or appreciate their loveliness.

Until now.

Will you just take a moment with me, to notice the wonder of these tiny blossoms?  They are delicate and small.  You could crush them with a boot, and not even notice.  I had to get down on my knees to really see them, to snap a picture.  

They ask nothing of the world.  They only live to seek the sun as it shines, blooming where ever they are planted.  

They are truly lovely.  

If you slow down and get down on your knees, you might find Beauty in your day, too. 
It grows everywhere.

Merry Christmas!

Yes, there is a Christmas tree in my living room today.
Yes, I know it is June.  

Need an explanation?

We had a photo shoot at my house for a story that will be published around Christmastime.  Publishers work months ahead, in order to have the material ready by December.   So we set up Christmas a bit early, and took the pictures.  This is the first time that I have ever decorated for Christmas when it is NOT December.  And you know what?  It has been a fantastic experience!   

The kids are beside themselves with Joy.  Not kidding.  I never realized how magical this could be.   

I mean, it’s not like June is a dark and sad month or anything.  We don’t NEED Christmas tree lights in June like we need a sparkly tree up north in December.  By the third week of December, we Minnesotans are desperate for anything that twinkles like the sun.  The world is such a dark and cold place that even tiny Christmas lights and Advent candles make us happy.  Christmas gives us HOPE!  

But in June, we have sunshine and sparkling water and boats and loons crying.  And mosquitoes.  Those too.  And kids out of school, and broken arms, and trips to the orthodontist and dentist and doctor and gophers digging up the yard that I just mowed in 80% humidity with a herd of mosquitoes trailing me like flying piranhas through the woods…I don’t worry about wolves in the woods, because the mosquitoes leave so little flesh that no wolf would be interested.  Wolf spiders are more scary, anyway.  June in Minnesota is special that way.

I guess what I am trying to say, is that even though it is summer, and the kites are flying, the sparrows are hatching, and the roses are blooming, I still need Hope.  I still need a little help finding Love, Joy, and Peace.  And you know what?  It is really easy to find those things with a Christmas tree in the living room and a creche on the mantel.  

The kids’ excitement and anticipation of great Joy were contagious.  So I rummaged around the nooks and crannies of my house, and found many odds and ends for presents.  Mostly books.  And silly things like a Bonne Belle lipgloss giftpack (90% off in January!) and some Jolly Rancher shower gel.  How is that even a thing?  Who wants tasty shower gel?  These things are in my house because I can’t pass up a 90% off sale, no matter how ridiculous the items.  I also grabbed all of the individual-sized snacks out of the cupboards, like Cheetos and Sour Cream and Onion Chips.  I wrapped everything up in Christmas paper, and tucked it all under the sparkling tree.  

Then we invited friends over.   

I think they were surprised! 

And you know what?  We had a lovely, unexpected, and Joyous afternoon.   We ate popcorn, we talked, we laughed.  We played a White Elephant gift game with all the wrapped presents, and the mystery gift that everyone wanted the most turned out to be the Jolly Rancher Shower Gel.  Imagine that.  It was wrapped in the shiniest paper.  

If you are looking for Hope or Joy, I highly recommend celebrating Christmas in June!   The sparkly Christmas tree brought us excitement and Joy.  But there was more to it than that.  

Amid the decorations and presents and laughter, something else was there.  

The most amazing part of this week has been the quiet parade of plastic animals and shepherds, making their way across my mantel, looking for the small Christ Child in the manger.  Despite the rickety barn, despite the darkness of the night and the chaos in the world, the baby sleeps peacefully in the manger.  Silent night, holy night.  That is what gives us Hope.  That’s the source of our Joy.   And that is worth celebrating, any time of the year.  

Merry Christmas!

I miss you, Blog Friends!  I hope you are having a wonderful summer vacation!  Life is good out here in the sticks.   

The Mud Pies are made fresh, daily.   In their little bakery that is the front yard, they line up their baked goods on rocks and steps, drying in the summer sun, topping them off with the best blooms from the garden.  This week, however, I turned my back for 15 minutes, and the entire bakery staff and their customers decided to use the pies to make Celtic war paint.  In fifteen minutes, a mighty battle ensued, wherein many kids were plastered in mud.  One child enjoyed this so completely that he covered himself in it.  Head to toe.  Mud.  He was so pleased.  By the time I returned, it was clear that my bathroom was going to be the complete and total loser.  Sadly, the outside water was too cold for me to turn the hose on them, and when they had all cleaned up enough to go home for supper, the bathroom was a wreck.  “Please don’t make me wash!”  the dirtiest child had said, with a smile.  “I want to show my Mom!”  Oh, no, you don’t.  

Watch out for mud pies.  
They make excellent weapons.

Career opportunities abound here.  The laundry pile is climbing half way up to the ceiling, with no signs of stopping.  If the average American washes two loads of laundry per week, (a conservative estimate)  then it is reasonable to assume that I should do sixteen.  Not counting sheets and towels.  Those add up, too.  The dishwasher runs, merrily, three times a day.  It actually doesn’t load itself, though, so good workers are always needed.  And for those career-minded individuals with a “Big Picture” mentality, the heavy traffic around here means the floor is always dirty.  All of it.  From front door to back.  Please send help.  And some Clorox Wipes.

“Success is when your knees are stained green and brown at the end of the day,”  says a local twelve year old.  With that ideology in mind, you might be surprised that so far, only one arm has been broken this summer. But it required surgery, with pins, so that child’s status as a Tag-Playing Superstar is quite secure.  

Did I mention I am working this summer?  Yes, the fridge is empty, unless you want a sandwich.    I have given up grocery shopping entirely to illustrate another (beautiful and amazing) children’s book for Behold Publications.   It is like entering another dimension for me, drawing the Little Flowers saints and virtues.  Very peaceful and gratifying.  And no mud pies anywhere in sight.  

Well, that is the news from the sticks.  

I wish you many days of restful Summer-Vacation sunshine…

Life is good.

Before, I didn’t know.

Before my child was born with Down Syndrome, I never thought about what it meant to have a child that was Special.  Because all my kids were special.  Each one is unique, with his or her own talents, abilities and struggles.  They are all special.  But Stella is Special, with a capital S.  It’s a little something extra.

That extra chromosome has done something remarkable and different to her, that I never could have understood before I knew her.  One tiny extra chromosome has changed everything.  

Let me explain with a story.

One evening, when Stella was about two years old, our family visited a church that was not our own.  As presentations were made by speakers, Stella got a bit antsy, so I left the pew and stood in the back of the church to bounce her in my arms.  Maybe she would fall asleep, so I could hear the presentations and learn something.  I had a few stressors at the time, and could use a bit of a spiritual boost.  I was looking forward to this.

But Stella had another idea.  She wiggled and wriggled, trying energetically to get down, away from me.  In her deep, low voice, she started to repeat  “Dow.  Dowww!”  She emphatically wanted down, and she wasn’t about to be shushed.  I set her down on the floor, and she began ambling straight toward a man against the back wall.  I followed, trying to quietly corral her back in a corner where we could have a little personal space, and wouldn’t disturb anyone.  No way.  Stella persisted, and beelined as fast as she could, right up to the man.  

He was stern looking, bearded, and wearing old jeans.  Stella walked right up to him, and hugged his leg.  

“Sorry,” I mumbled, and sheepishly retrieved my child.  

For the next five or ten minutes, we repeated this scene.

People were starting to stare.  

Stella would yell at me to let her down, and right away, she’d run to the man, and hug his leg.

Soon she began to call “Uppa!  Uppa!”

The man looked bewildered.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered.  “She wants you to pick her up.”  

“Really?”  He looked surprised.  Then he leaned down, and held out his arms.  My little Stella embraced him, tightly wrapping her arms around his neck.

I stood right next to him, watching. 

Stella buried her face in his bearded neck, gently touching the back of his head with her small fingers.  She petted him, and rested.  A group of people watched Stella, no longer paying any attention to the speaker.  Everyone in the back of the crowded church was watching the toddler hugging the grizzled man.  

She rested for about ten minutes like that, nestled in his arms.  Loving him.

When the speaker finished whatever it was she was saying, the man gently handed my daughter back to me.

“Thank you,” he said, and walked away, into the starry night.  A tear glistened on his cheek.

After he left, a man and woman approached me.  “Do you know that man?” They asked. 

“No.”

“I am astonished that your daughter went up to him like that!”

“He’s the crankiest, grumpiest man!  He doesn’t talk to anyone, he always just stands in the back, scowling and waiting.”  

Before I knew Stella, I would have been surprised.  Perhaps embarrassed, even.  But not now.  Now I know Stella.  That little extra chromosome has given her a superpower, an ability to love others, unfiltered.  Unchained by manners, or propriety, or personal space issues.  Without words, without a presentation, or a speech…  With something as simple and uncomplicated as a hug, she helps people feel God’s love.  

And I am not surprised at all. 

Because now, I know.  

Sometimes Special comes with a capital “S”.  

This week, I found five unexpected surprises in my yard.  

2.  Bleeding Hearts.  Every year, Dog makes a bed out of this plant, wrecking it entirely.  He starts out by losing his tennis ball nearby, and tears up the earth looking for it.  This plant has always gotten in his way, and become nothing but a sleeping mat for Dog.  And I always get angry.  But not this year.  This year we outsmarted him by enclosing the plant with rocks.  We win!

3.  Poison Ivy.  Yep.  This is what Dog chose to roll about and play in, since he couldn’t reach the Bleeding Hearts.  Dog has had two very soapy baths this week.  He was alternately pleased, unhappy, and confused.  We lose.

4.  I will never go out in the woods again.  This girl wasn’t afraid of my camera in the least.  I am the one who found her, and I am terrified.

5.  Someone planted a garden here, long ago.  It’s only when I am too busy to breathe that I get surprises like this.  When I have no time to weed the garden, when I just let the green little sprouts alone, the strangest and most beautiful surprises pop up.  Sometimes it’s good to be too tired to meddle.  Lovely Things happen all by themselves.  

What is the point of all this rambling, you ask?

I’m getting there.  

Usually I just write about the Love, Joy, and Peace that I find.  

And I do find it!  Even in the strangest places.

That doesn’t mean that other things don’t exist for me.  The proverbial Poison Ivy, black eyes, creepy spiders…everyone has them. 

But we all get to choose what we want to keep in our pockets and memories.  I want to remember the Love.  I want to cherish the smile and contentment of a girl who played hard and won.  I want to treasure Joy in the plant that actually survived the Dog!  I want to remember this blueish flower.  It’s unique and exciting, and I did nothing to create or nurture it.  It needed me to step aside and let it be, in Peace.  I can appreciate that. 

So now you know.  Love, Joy, and Peace are here, right in the middle of everything creepy.  

And you get to choose what you want to hold on to. 

A while ago, I was driving down the highway in my truck.  One of my kids was home from college for the weekend.  She’s a compassionate one…  She doesn’t kill bugs, won’t attend zoos, can hardly bring herself to consume meat…She is a future Cat Lady of the world.  She is Altruistic with a capital A. 

So you know what happened?  

I was driving about 55, a semi truck was coming toward me from the other way.  Another car was right behind me.  That’s when it happened.  A small, grey cat darted out of the brush, and in front of my truck.  I had one second to choose.  One.  I could veer to the center, avoid the cat and hit a semi head on.  I could hit the brakes and get rear-ended by the car behind me, which would also possibly involve the semi.  

Or I could hit the cat.  

My one-second choice became no choice at all, because just at that instant, the poor cat changed direction and ran right towards me.  Right into me.

I calmly pulled my truck off the road and started to cry.  I had just killed someone’s beloved pet.  I didn’t want to be the one to break anyone’s heart.   With dread, I knocked on the nearest door, and asked the homeowner if he had a grey cat.  

He shook his head no, and walked with me back down to the road.  Just then the sheriff pulled up.  

“Another one, eh?” the sheriff asked the man, seeing my distress and the small kitty on the side of the road.  

“Seems to be,” the homeowner said.  “I know my neighbors and I know their pets.  This one here must be another one that got dumped.”

The sheriff and the man explained to me that this was a regular occurrence.  Pet owners who no longer wanted their pets frequently left their unfortunate animals on the property of country folks, thinking that the animal would be cared for out “on the farm”.   In reality, the abandoned animals are left with coyotes, foxes, hunger, highways, and big trucks.  Poor things.  

“They don’t have a chance,” the sheriff assured me. “No way to find out who they belong to, either.”

The rest of that day I was stressed out and on high alert.   I was sad for the cat, sad that I traumatized my cat-loving daughter.  I am a very conservative driver anyway, but that day I was over cautious, anticipating accidents at every corner.   By the time I finally got home for the night, I was frazzled and worn.  

My daughter greeted me at the door with a look of serious awe.  “Guess what happened to me today?” she said.  “After the cat accident this morning, I was so stressed out.  I drove more cautiously than normal, anticipating the worst all day.  And it happened.  Just as I drove around a blind corner with a lot of trees close to the road, there they were;  two kids weaving around on bikes, coming towards me on the wrong side of the road.   They weren’t paying attention and they didn’t see me until it was too late.  I slammed on my brakes, and one kid just glided past me, mouth open, with horror on his face.  He never even stopped.  If I hadn’t been so freaked out about that cat, expecting the worst, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to avoid hitting them.  Those two kids are alive because that poor stray cat dove in front of us today.”

Coincidence?  I don’t think so.  I think the small things in each day can sometimes be the most significant.  Small things change everything…like a little, grey, abandoned cat who made all the difference for a couple of kids.

Even if they never knew it.