In between broken slabs
Your permission slip to bloom and bloom and bloom. Wherever you want to. Whenever you want to. And, however you are being called to bloom.
In between broken slabs
of concrete on a Monday
lives a wildflower -
yellow bellied
and full of life.
Life with chronic dis-ease looks a little bit like this.
And yet, the contrast between who I was and who I am gets less stark with each passing year, beloveds. I look in the mirror and see beauty where I couldn't see much more than death. I imagine old age, some days. I smile when my hands cannot hold a cup; my son helps me clean up the spill without asking. Doesn't judge what he's seen. Doesn't panic. We've already tackled ableism. We've had that talk. I wonder how many other parents have had it? I wonder how many have offered privileged bodied children a peek inside differently privileged lives and said,
This too is you. This is humanity, precious soul. She is you and you are she and she is me.
If you spend your days avoiding folks who look and live and think differently than you and yours, you are doing you and yours such a disservice, friends. The longer I live the less clear the lines between us seem to be.
We all have needs.
And, we all deeply desire peace.
The kind that comes from being seen, known and loved.
Don't be afraid of your sisters story. Don't shy away from your brothers pain. Don't ignore your friends truth. It all matters. It all counts. It all can unite.
On this note, it’s doing my soul a brilliant service to imagine myself a yellow bellied wildflower right now. I am recovering from three asthma attacks in 48 hours. They came out of nowhere. After we prepared my body for the season change. They came anyway.
So do wildflowers.
Wildflowers rear up anyway. The farmer throws pesticide down and misses one spot. The highway patrol sprays the side of the road, and the beauty persists. Sometimes it’s the extra wild kind, too. With thorns at her sides. She’s developed a protective layer, friend. She knows her value and her worth.
Right now, Arizona is actually covered in thorny blue wildflowers with yellow tummies and while I know there are many at war with this… they do cause a terrible rash from what I’ve heard… My thought is that maybe we just shouldn’t touch them? Maybe we should just let nature be nature? Maybe we can just allow what’s meant to bloom where it wants to bloom.
You can bloom wherever you want too, sweet friend.
As I’ve sat in my bed all day, I have been reminded of this over and over again. Against all odds, we can bloom.
Even if our blooming might not make sense to anyone else.
This is your permission slip if it was needed.
I love you.
Squeezes,
J. 🌻 @thebarefootpreacher
New here? Reclamation is a newsletter and conversation-starter. We are a safe, progressive Christian space with interfaith honoring. Here we meet caregivers of all kinds - from parents to pastors - to question complicated lives and also, claim & claim again supernatural peace here on earth. I’m so glad to spend more time together!
Beautifully said.
Beautifully written