Wildflower Whimsy

Dear Whimsy,

Hello! How are you going? It has been such a while since I saw you. Since I sat in your presence. It seems I last saw you in all of your glory when I was but a child. Has it really been that long?

I’ve certainly tried to connect with you over the years. Going to college, studying, finding a husband, marrying said husband…having babies year after year. Raising them in a sleep deprived haze. Watching them grow. . . year after year. There have been glimpses of you, here and there. But nothing like it was when I was a child.

Is childhood truly the time when you were most seen? Most felt? When we shared such a joy, and such a spark? I am sad to say that I think it is so.

With a whole life ahead of me, and time to dally away. When sunshine sparkled, and excitement hummed continuously beneath the surface. When the smallest things delighted and sleep was deep and long. When icecream and summer and pool swims were everything. When I had my very own skipping rope, and I skipped and skipped everywhere, singing at the top of my lungs. Happy, just because. Anticipation of so. many. things! Often oblivious to the depth of the strain of life. That changed as I grew older. The times that you, Whimsy, started to fade behind worries and fears and pain. When I began to attempt to fit into a societal mold in order to feel love outside of myself. When I doubted my God gifted worth; when it was no longer just you and me.

I miss you, Whimsy. Please, forgive me for forgetting about you for so. very. long.

I’m determined to bring back what we had, so many years ago. Determined to dally a little more. To dance a little more. To breath deep and sparkle a little more.

In order to this, I’m taking some steps. Back to the place of my first love. Childlike. Just you and me, Whimsy. Where moments stand still and worries fade back into time and space that I don’t have to control or measure. Where friendships bloom, and sunshine sparkles, and I dance wild with mulberry stained lips.

I’m giving the other stuff to Jesus, our timeless and Sovereign Friend. He carried all the other stuff then. And He can do it again, I know it. I’m resting in it.

So you and me, Whimsy!? What adventures might we have as a new day with new mercies dawns?

I’ll have you know, I bought a skipping rope. This one is a little longer. I’ve grown tall, you see. But I’m still the same little girl inside. I’m ready to sing at the top of my lungs again. . .

I can’t wait for more of you, Wildflower Whimsy! (The Wildflower addition to your name includes me. . . the new version of us. Blooming again, right where we are planted.)

Love, Steph xox

Quote of the week:

“Odd that we fear ageing, forgetting how lucky we are to even get the chance.” -Anna Johnston

Drinking: cups of herbal tea and matcha and honey or maple syrup on the daily. Soaking up moments and letting go of the burdens with acceptance, prayer, and sleep. Trying my hand at Indian food with Indian spices. Aromas heady and delicious. Chasing children and hugging them close. Imperfections and growth and learning abound, but Whimsy…Whimsy is back to stay.

With Wildflower Whimsy xo