7/30/14

Always Awkward

Sometimes I talk to myself. Well...okay, I talk to myself a lot. Don't hold it against me - I've heard it said that talking to oneself is a sign of intelligence, and it helps improve cognitive function. (Guess I can't play the insane card after all.) The other day though, I found myself thinking about where I fit in the big scheme of things, considering the age groups I relate to most. I said to myself, "I'm at that awkward age where... Wait... I've always been at that awkward age."

Growing up in the home school scene, I didn't socialize with large masses of kids my age. I had a few friends at church, and a few friends in our home schooling group, but I remember having a good portion of conversations with adults. I recall thinking I was probably strange because I sometimes enjoyed the company of adults more than kids my age. The adults didn't seem to mind - apparently I was mature enough to not be too big of a pain, although maybe some of that is just wishful thinking.

Since then though, I've constantly found myself seemingly in between stages. Too old to do such-and-such, but not old enough for such-and-such. Too young to do this certain thing, but too old for this other activity. Only recently have I begun socializing with people who are actually closer to my age than 15 years - and it's really quite fun!

I've always blamed that awkward feeling on my age. I've always just figured that less-than-comfortable feeling came from me being younger than most in the room, or older than most in the room. And to a certain extent, that's true. There is much to be said for hanging around folks in the same age bracket. But I wonder if there's more truth in the fact that I've felt awkward simply because I've been different than the other people I've hung out with. Different interests. Different standards. Different beliefs.

I'm grateful for the chance to finally be finding people I love to hang out with, but in all honesty, it has nothing to do with age. It's that we have similar interests or goals. Similar standards in life. Similar beliefs when it comes to being a Christian in this crazy world. And now...I feel the most awkward when I'm around people who simply don't "get" me. I'm realizing that it's not related to my age at all, but who I am.

I'll probably always feel awkward in this world, and that's okay. If I felt too comfortable, I might forget that it's not really my home, and that something better is waiting for me after this world is gone. At least now, I can quit blaming it on my age, and realize that if being "me" causes awkwardness, so be it. I'll just laugh about it later and...probably talk to myself about it, too. Since, well, you know, I like feeling intelligent that way.


7/28/14

Good Friends and Cadavers

I'm not generally fascinated with roadkill. Actually, I'm usually quite put off for many reasons. Germs, stench, and I like animals, so I hate seeing them dead alongside the highway. It bothers me if I hit critters as small as squirrels, and I will brake for cats and dogs. That said, sometimes the species on the shoulder can be intriguing.

This morning, I was running late. I'd gotten up late, I'd left my apartment late, and I still had to stop for gas before actually heading to work. I wasn't far out of town when I met a familiar oncoming car. What was strange though, was that they stopped, turned around, and went back to a nearby gravel intersection. As I drove on by, I realized my friends were getting out of their vehicle to look at some particular roadkill. Normally, my practical sense kicks in and would just as soon keep me driving so I could make it to work at a reasonable time. But this morning, something in me wanted to change things up a bit. So I pulled over and turned around.

Because of my decision, two cool things happened. One, I got to see my friends whom I hadn't seen in a while - how fun is that? We had a brief chat and shared some laughter. And two, I got to see a bobcat up close and personal. Granted, it was dead, but since it wasn't too marred by the accident, it really was fascinating. Enough so that I took a quick picture (which I won't share here, but if you want to see it, let me know) as proof that bobcats in our area really do exist.

After I got back in my car and once again started for work, I began thinking about all the little opportunities I probably miss every day, just because I don't want to take two minutes to stop what I'm already doing. How many times have I missed out on something neat, just because I "didn't have time"? Or what kinds of opportunities did I leave behind because I was in too much of a hurry?

They say "it's the little things" that make life worth living. I wouldn't want to live by that theology alone, but I will say it is the little things that keep me excited to be alive, and I think God gives us those little things to keep us smiling and keep us focused on things outside of ourselves.

Life's too short to just keep on driving. Stop and turn around once in a while. You might see something neat. Like a dead bobcat.

7/25/14

I'm Loud

I was told yesterday in one of my martial arts classes that I'm loud. Granted, this individual meant it as a compliment, as she has to work hard at speaking up loudly when leading a class. I laughed, of course, but it did make me stop and think. Maybe I've just had a lot of practice trying to help others understand me clearly, but I usually blame my volume on the tone of my voice. I believe it just happens to be the right kind of tone that carries well. When at work, if I get even a little excited over something, others at the far end of the building can hear me. (Which is quite a feat, seeing as though I have several deaf coworkers.)


I talk loudly. I laugh loudly. Thankfully, I'm generally surrounded by people who don't mind a bit. They love me whether I'm shattering glass with sound waves or not. Not everybody appreciates loud volume though. And in these instances, actions are more important than words.

I try to act just as loudly as I speak. It isn't always easy, but I act much more loudly than I used to. And my reason is simple. I don't want anyone to question who I am or what I believe. I can talk, scream, yell or blow a whistle as loudly as I want about whatever topic or issue I want, but when it really comes down to it, those around me will be covering their ears and paying attention with their eyes instead. I may be boisterous, but do I really have passion? Do I have the guts to act on what I proclaim? Am I praising loudly with my voice, but lending no support? Am I complaining at the top of my lungs, but taking no action? I hope that's not the case.

To state the obvious cliché, "actions speak louder than words." I guess that means if I've got a loud voice, my actions are gonna be really loud. And I'm okay with that...as long as my actions are something I'm not ashamed of. I've got to be aware of who likes to listen to me, and who would rather watch me instead of hurting their ears. I've got to be willing to not only say, "This is who I am," but act like the person I am. And when that happens, I won't have to say anything. Which will save my vocal cords, and listening ears.

My goal is to live loud and live real. (There is a time and place for quietness. But even quiet actions speak volumes.) Besides...living quietly isn't nearly as much fun as being so obnoxiously loud that the enthusiasm becomes contagious. And who doesn't want to spread a joyful, excited, energetic contagion?

7/24/14

Peace in the Mortification

Lately I've heard myself saying things like, "When I was a kid," or "Years ago..." I suppose now I'm old enough to use those phrases without it seeming ridiculous to those even older than me. Of course, it also makes me feel old, but I suppose that's not going to change any time soon.

Another thing that probably won't change is feeling utterly ridiculous about certain past decisions or behaviors. Everybody looks back on at least one instance in their younger life, smacks themselves upside the head and would prefer never to be reminded of the incident. Now, I gotta say, I don't have too many instances about which I feel too stupid, but there are some. The good news is I've discovered I don't have to keep beating myself up over the past. Why? Because I've learned from it. I realize that not all people have the skill of learning from the past, but I can say with confidence that I'm at least getting better at it. And as I get better, there is peace.

A little back story... Yesterday, my office buddy and I were discussing the fact that my perceptions have changed over the last few years, and I'm able to see situations and people much differently than before. It was an area in which she knew I struggled, but she just had to sit back and wait for me to grow and learn things for myself. Thankfully, she was patient enough to wait.

Realizing how I'd perceived things several years ago, and realizing how it would appall me if I would react to situations now like I did then, I was mortified. And I even said so. My buddy's response? "But there's peace in the mortification." It sounded so funny that we laughed, and I even posted it on Twitter/Facebook, but if you look past the humor, it really is a very profound statement.

Being mortified by past actions means I've matured. I've come to the point where those things actually do mortify me. And that only proves I've grown. Knowing that brings peace of mind. It's a peace knowing that I'm still growing and learning and moving forward. We all do stupid things - it's only when we ignore them and choose not to learn from them that makes it sad.

So I guess I'm proud to say I'm mortified. Which...really sounds weird, but thankfully you've read this post and understand what I mean...I hope.

Here's to being mortified. May we all find peace in mortification, but be less mortified in the future.

7/22/14

Smashed Fingers, Paper Jams and Wet Pants

My day didn't start out well. Actually, I was fine until I was attacked by a door. Being a ninja, you'd think I would have seen it coming, but in my defense, it was dark. There didn't seem to be a need to flip on the light when I was only going to be in there a few seconds. But that was before I was viciously attacked. Apparently the door didn't want to be closed. Oh, but I got it closed, alright. I may have sacrificed my finger, but that door is closed!

Not long after that, this was my view:


This is an angle of the production-line copy machine where I work...from the floor...where I got to spend a lot of time while removing paper jams from all sorts of nooks and crannies. (We don't call it Beelzebub for nothing.) Torn papers, toner all over my hands, and phantom pages. In between that was a bout of forgetfulness, trying to beat the clock and basically feeling like a chicken with its head cut off - although less painful, I'm sure.


I wish that eraser really would fix all the problems. Erase the bad. Wipe the slate clean. Start over. Get those little pink shavings all over the floor. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I try, I don't think jamming the eraser into the copy machine will actually fix anything. Bummer.

Amidst it all though, I found myself laughing along with my office buddy. It was either that or be depressed, and being depressed is never fun. Of course, it helped when humor lent itself without effort. Like a door on the copy machine opening itself whenever it pleased - really. Or being so befuddled that speech became a real gibberish hazard - albeit hilarious.

Here's the best part of the day though...
I'm very blessed to work in a place where I'm allowed to use the laundry appliances, since I have none of my own. Today was one of those days when I brought a load of dirty laundry to wash. But I don't like putting my workout pants through the dryer, so I usually separate them and put them in my office to air-dry. Sometimes I drape them over the back of my chair. I didn't know my office buddy was going to need my computer this morning.

Imagine me standing in my office doorway as she looked up from my desk (where she'd been sitting for several minutes already...on my clean pants...) with an expression of shock on her face. "Your pants are wet!" Thankfully, I realized she meant the pants I'd taken from the wash, not the pants I was actually wearing. I probably blinked. There may have been a moment of shocked silence. All I'm really sure about is when she realized the implications of her words, our laughter was probably heard all the way at the other end of the building.

After everything the morning threw my way, I'm glad I can still smile, still laugh, and still praise the Lord for another day to be alive...wet pants and all.

Ahh...Tuesdays. Sometimes they beat Mondays. This one did a good job. I think tomorrow I'll bring a flashlight for the naughty door, a sledgehammer to threaten the copy machine, and a caution sign for my laundry room/office.

7/20/14

An Oxymoron at Its Best

The world I live in is a room full of rounded corners, windows too far out of reach, and an oxymoronish atmosphere that twists my feeble mind…and my sense of humor. At some point, I made a conscious decision to ignore reality and pretend to live in a world made up of whatever I wanted. Thrill. Love. Forever summer days, and of course, happy endings. 

But when I set my pen down, or close my laptop, I’m back in the real world again, breathing in the same oxymoronish air that makes me laugh when I’m expected to cry, or fight when I’m expected to fly.

Even aside from all my quirks and lapses from reality, my lot in life itself is considered unusual by most of those around me, since I’m still single. Makes things kind of awkward sometimes. I’ll admit, I’m headed for that crazy old cat lady phase, but hey, there are some very positive aspects to not having yet wed. Besides, if it weren’t for single people, nobody would ever get married.

I’ve had over thirty years of experience being single, and I’ve compiled quite a mental list of positive aspects. These are my favorite pros:

1) Time itself is yours and yours alone.

2) Bad morning breath and messy hair don’t really matter.

3) If you spend hours on the phone or computer, you’re neglecting no one.

4) That never-ending battle with the toilet seat being left up or down? It doesn’t exist.

5) Nobody sees how much chocolate you have for dessert.

6) Your toothpaste tube can be squished anywhere you want.

7) The bed’s entire surface is all yours to sprawl on (unless you have cats, then you’re left with a mere 20%).

8) The color of paint for the living room must please only you.

9) When you wonder if a piece of clothing makes you look fat, there’s no one to tell you yes.

10) No one else has to like what you fix for supper.

11) Quiet time is available ANY time.

12) There are no arguments about what to watch on tv or which movie to rent.

13) If you fall asleep on the couch, it’s not because you’re in trouble.

14) And my ultimate favorite: When you buy a tub of ice cream…it’s ALL yours!

Of course, even in my not-so-average world, there are cons to being single, as well. I can’t deny that. So I came up with a list of those, too.

Actually, instead of wasting space, just read back through the above list again, and that will suffice.

If you’re married, I’m sorry. And I envy you. And if you’re single, I hope you enjoy it and hate it as much as I do. I’m not the only one in a world of round corners and windows out of reach. But sometimes I imagine the panes lowering just a little, giving me slight glimpses of a different world on the other side. I think there’s sunshine there, too. And I hope there are happy endings. But if not, I’ll make up my own just like I always do.

7/18/14

You've got one, I've got one, we've all got one.

On any given day, you might find me wearing a t-shirt with one of my own designs on it that says, "Yes, I AM working on another book." The whole purpose was to simply give a humorous spin on the fact that people are constantly asking me if I'm still writing or still working on a book. I'm a writer. It's what I do. So to be quite honest, it's a funny question to me.

The truth of the matter is I've always got more than one project going - writing or otherwise. I've got craft projects, graphic designs in the making, my website upkeep, these blog posts, and a constant plethora of ideas for book plots... all of them running through my mind all the time. ALL the time. I blame my sometimes-forgetfulness on the fact that my brain is just too busy to remember the smaller, less important things. Like lunch. Or my wallet. Or my chiropractor appointments. I've got sticky notes all over the place, and somehow I even miss those. Oooh, pretty yellow! I wonder how long that note will stay stuck to my computer. I haven't the foggiest what it means, but it sure makes me look productive!

The other day, while sorting through an old crate of papers and who knows what else, I found these:

Each one is a manuscript of a book I have yet to finish. Some are a part of a series I wrote years ago. Some are stand-alone novels. I'd even forgotten about one of them! Yet when looking through the pages, I still remembered the characters, the plots, and where I'd wanted the storylines to head. I never completed them for whatever reason (I might someday) but those plots are still running through my brain. No wonder I'm running out of room!

Last week, I had to go over Taekwondo material because I was going to help fill in for another instructor one evening. I'd been through some of those moves about two years ago...but after a few tries, my body remembered what it was supposed to do. And I learned more on top of that!

I had the radio turned up nice and loud this morning on the way in to work, and realized just how many lyrics, melodies and voices I recognized. I could sing along with songs, or even recognize who the artist was. (While still paying attention to driving safely, mind you.)

More often than not, my mind is going a bazillion miles per hour in just as many directions. Not everybody's brain works that way, and I'm not trying to boast about all the things I do, but no matter what kind of mind you have and what your tendencies or traits are...God has given us all incredible brains! We can think about and do and perform and remember countless images, smells, feelings, sounds, stories, songs, faces, names, relationships, events...the list goes on and on and on. And it never stops, til the day we die.

Science has proven most of us only use a small percentage of our brains' capabilities. And to tell you the truth, I'm kind of glad. I can't imagine having an even more active brain than I already do.

Happy Friday, and don't forget to feed your brain something healthy this weekend.


7/16/14

Fun is Hard Work

Here's the thing... Sometimes to have fun, you gotta make fun. Fun doesn't create itself. Joy doesn't just pop out of nowhere and surprise you, and laughter isn't made from thin air (unless the air is helium, which can result in humor).

Lots of folks can hardly believe how I talk about my job, because a lot of what I share is the fun stuff. The pranks my office buddy and I pull. The bubble wrap mania. The war on boxes. The backwards clock we hung on the wall for the sole purpose of confusing people. We play music (loud music) in our part of the building. We dance across the floor. While waiting for our machine to finish a print job, it's no surprise to find us practicing our Taekwondo moves, or pretending to be ninjas. Sometimes alone. Sometimes we attack each other. Weapons? We use poster tubes or rulers. Do we look ridiculous? Absolutely! And people love hearing about all our antics.

Everything we do, though, takes effort. Our jobs aren't really all that fun. Our days aren't full of free time to goof off. We have very stressful projects with tight schedules. We deal with people waiting on us every day, and sometimes have to go to Taekwondo or Krav Maga classes just to blow off steam. We kick boxes not only because it's fun, but because sometimes we just need that stress release. My office buddy and I have great jobs, don't get me wrong. Working in ministry has fantastic rewards. We work with godly people and will never be told we can't pray or can't open our Bibles at work. We're touching lives worldwide with our work. But despite all the fun everybody hears about...yes, our jobs can be very stressful at times.

That's where the effort to make it fun comes in.

Fun isn't just born. It must be made. Why do we prank our coworkers? Because it produces laughter and lightens moods. Why do we act like ninjas? Because if we don't, we might really go mad. Why do we stand at the digital printer and laugh when there's paper strewn from end to end? Because if we don't, we might cry.

We make laughter. Our jobs really aren't all that fun. We create the fun to survive. We work hard at having good attitudes, and we rely on each other to help maintain the light atmosphere at our end of the building. And in reality...anybody can do it.

Not everybody can behave like we can at their jobs. I get that. But everybody can make the best of their situations and can have joy within themselves no matter their daily tasks. Having fun doesn't require pranks, ninjas or even bubble wrap. But it does require effort of the heart. It's attitude. It's mindset. Enjoying one's day is a choice.

So yeah, I've got a great job. But the laughter? That's a byproduct of daily effort.




7/11/14

Friday's Funny - Crazy Time

If you own a cat, you'll be able to relate. If you don't own a cat, I imagine you'll still find this cartoon rather funny. The most humorous part about the whole thing is that it's so true! My cats constantly make me laugh. Yeah, they get into mischief, but I truly believe God gave them to me for the company, and for something to make me smile every day.

Here's another video of "Simon's Cat."




 Go a little crazy this weekend...but not too crazy. :-)


"You have turned my sorrow into joyful dancing." Psalm 30:11a


  

7/9/14

Tasty Memories

Goldfish and I have a pretty good relationship. (I'm talking about the Pepperidge Farm crackers, not the actual fish, mind you.) I've been eating them for as long as I can remember. First, I've always loved cheese, and second, I've always loved a good salty/crunchy snack.

As I broke into a bag of Goldfish today, it made me think of how something as simple as a taste could bring back memories. Where was I, as a child, eating this same snack? Sunday School? VBS? At home for a special treat? It wasn't every day that I got Goldfish, so even now, when I can go out and buy them any time I want, my emotions still deem them a special food meant for special occasion. Granted, the "special" in "special occasion" has become a game of justification. It's 9:55am! That's a special number! Or it's the third of the month AND a Thursday. That's special since it doesn't happen every month. Regardless of my excuse though, Goldfish remains a favorite and special snack.

Probably, though, my most vivid memory connected with taste is when consuming Skittles or grape soda pop. Mmm. Even when typing this, my mouth is starting to water. Those two things really make a bad combo as far as sugar consumption, however, those were my usual choices when allowed to get a treat while at camp. I was pretty young, but I still remember the chewy goodness of the Skittles. The cold can in my hand and the scent of grape that hit my nostrils even before I'd taken a sip. And it went down oh-so smoothly. Today, any time I eat Skittles or splurge on grape soda pop (or dare the combination), my first thought is of camp. It's accompanied by pleasant emotions, since I enjoyed that experience.

Of course, there are negative emotions that can be connected to tastes as well. Food that has a similar taste to certain medicines will turn off many eaters, even if they're not usually picky, since the emotions connected with that flavor are negative. Or if someone ever got sick while eating a particular food (even if it wasn't caused by the food), the taste can forever turn them off.

Our minds and senses are only a few of the incredibly amazing things we've been given. It's fun to recognize their presence so they can be enjoyed all the more.

(Yes, I often tear bags down the side instead of splitting the top...)

Do you have a favorite snack that's more about the memories than the flavors? Or a snack that's kept for "special" occasions?


7/7/14

Soapbox: What happened to courtesy and respect?

Honestly, courtesy and respect is what it comes down to. Or lack thereof. But I'm afraid our society is too full of too many people who can't see past themselves to expect anything else.

This is an ongoing thing with me. I won't say pet peeve, because it's more than that. I'm actually angered by the way people behave towards others. Then again, it's no surprise.

I'm most often faced with this issue when going shopping or driving. Those seem to be the two locations where people most become so self-absorbed they only know their route, their time frame, their needs, and quite frankly, no one else matters. I am constantly amazed when, at the grocery or retail store, other shoppers seem to either think they are the only ones that matter, or they don't even see me at all. Sometimes I think it's both. Hello...the aisle is purposely made wide enough for two carts. But that's okay. Take your time. I'll just stand here and wait until you miraculously see me here, then bounce your eyes so you can pretend I don't exist and avoid any of those nasty urges to actually move six inches to the side and allow me to pass. Really...I'm fine waiting here, because...well...I did see you and I put your needs before mine. 

I'm not saying I'm perfect, but I do consciously make an effort to let others go first at those store aisle intersections, let people know they're fine when they do apologize (miracle of miracles) for being in the way, and if I see someone needs something my cart is blocking, I do my best to move. I'm sure I screw up too - I'm not the most manner-filled person in the world, but any efforts on my part do seem to be, do I dare say it...becoming old-fashioned.

Just this morning while driving on the highway, I got stuck in a line of slow-moving traffic due to some construction. Once we were allowed to get up to speed again, several cars, including mine, were trying to escape a couple semis. But, being tailgated, I opted for the creeper lane. Of course...once I got out of the way and let two cars go by, there was a pickup who was bound and determined to get ahead of me. It didn't matter that my blinker was on and I was already coming back over into the main lane again. Had I continued my properly-executed course, he would have sideswiped me. Obviously, the wise choice was for me to get back into the creeper lane until he'd gotten around me (and saved his precious 50 seconds), and even then, I had to make it a quick move before more cars tried to cut me off.

Really? I wasn't even going slowly! Yet every driver I see on that road seems to believe they are the only ones that matter. Today's incident was a normal occurrence. It's their schedule. Their road. Their priorities. I find pleasure in catching up with those speed demons later down the road, proving (if only to myself, since they're obviously blind) their maniac methods really get them nowhere faster.

Apparently, people today find their source of power by being able to push others around, or, at the very least, ignore them. In reality though, all it does is make them look like the fools, for it's quite apparent that they have purposely left behind values such as courtesy and respect. If those same shoppers and drivers would simply open their eyes and look just two feet beyond themselves, not only would there be more peaceful shopping markets and highways, but they might find the confidence to apply that same courtesy and respect more often.

The video below is one I recently saw on Facebook. It's actually a Thai commercial for life insurance, but the concept is a beautiful one. I know that I at least try to look past myself because it's the right thing to do. It's what God wants me to do. But even for non-believers, the concept of giving should not be that hard.



7/5/14

Fireworks, Fireflies and Frimily

As my head followed the path of sparkling smoke and my eyes stared up at the black sky to watch color burst forth in all directions, I had to chuckle. Here I was with a group of other people, totally entertained by this simple backyard lightshow. Once I thought about it, I did find it rather amusing. I mean, I laugh at my cat when she’s so entertained by a little laser light, but here I was, just as enthusiastic about these loud (and some people would deem obnoxious) fireworks.

Then again…I’m not convinced it was actually the fireworks themselves that I found so appealing.

Sitting on the picnic table, I was surrounded by my frimily (my newly made-up and newly favorite word to describe friends who are more like family). Overhead were several bats flitting about, having a feast on insects that were drawn to the yard lights. Fireflies glowed all around, silently floating on the night air. Children giggled and clapped with each eruption of rainbow-colored fire. Laughter rolled from one conversation to the next, never ceasing. Enthusiastic shouts accompanied particularly favorite fireworks, and competitions broke out with predictions of which colors would come next.

My eyes loved each bright firework, overwhelmed by the simple beauty. But my heart…it loved the fellowship.

The food was great. But who I was sitting next to was even better. The cool summer breeze felt oh-so good. But learning of childhood shenanigans like squishing fireflies on the pavement (or on each other) to create glowing smudges was even better. The watermelon was delicious! But laughing over silly things like chairs that wouldn’t let go of their prey, or human lint rollers was even better.

The celebration of America and her independence is, indeed, a worthy cause to celebrate. But were it not for my frimily, there would be little joy to fuel much enthusiasm.

7/2/14

Flowers Aren’t for Girls

I’ve been a tomboy most of my life. Growing up, I despised dresses, preferred Legos over dolls, and my favorite set of clothes consisted of jeans, a t-shirt and my beloved cowboy boots. I liked fishing, riding bikes with my brother and playing chess in groups of mostly boys. Most of my friends were boys, and though we were never allowed to play too roughly, I was still one of the gang.

Today, I’m pretty much just as anti-femininity as I used to be. I still hate dresses, and if you open my closet, you might find a couple sets of “good clothes,” but they’re well-hidden behind the mass of t-shirts and jeans. My favorite thing to do at work is haul heavy boxes or loads of paper so I can use my muscles. Scratches and bruises from my martial arts classes are worn proudly. My haircut of choice is very short, and makeup rarely touches my face. And the color pink? Don’t get me started. (Okay, I admit I do have one pink t-shirt. I have nothing against other women who adore this light shade of red, it’s just not my thing.)

In spite of all my boyish tendencies though…one of my favorite things God created is flowers. (Yes, even pink ones.) I love taking close-up photos of all kinds of flowers, especially the not-so-common. There are so many deep, rich colors absorbed in each petal that my eyes can't help but stare. Black petunias? Way cool. Stripes? Even cooler! Red. Orange. Purple. Blue. White. Yellow. All the colors of the rainbow are captured in these wonderful blossoming plants. If they smell good, that’s just a bonus. I love flowers enough to have two African violets in my office at work, and I’d like to grow more. I couldn’t have a flower garden anymore once I moved into my own apartment, so I had to at least buy a bunch of annuals to put in pots out on my porch. They’re not the happiest flowers I’ve ever seen, but I love doing my best to care for them and taking pictures of their blooms.

Call me girly and you’ll get a palm heel to the face or a round kick upside your head. Maybe both. But I’ll never renounce my love of flowers. As such, I’ve simply determined that flowers aren’t for girls. They’re for anyone who can enjoy the beauty God has given us. And flowers certainly are beautiful.


Do you have a favorite kind of flower? Do you admire from a distance, or do you have a green thumb?