The simplest of my children has become so complex. I'm not sure where it happened, or if it's just a bout of the terrible two's that he missed, but this child has thrown me for a loop. When he's on, his eyes sparkle and dance like the wildflowers in the meadow. When he's off, he's someone I have never met who seems to have the inability to be content. And like that, he can switch between the two.

My Wildflower. He's sensitive, I'm aware. The slightest breeze can bend his stem, and this whole move has him feeling picked out of the soil he was comfortable in and replanted into a whole different field.

I've always wanted patience. I believe this moment, this move has been just the building block to start me on the journey to get there.

I should have listened to my mother. She says, "never pray for patience, pray for grace"... but then again, I had to learn the hard way. I suppose the hard way allowed me to appreciate wildflowers from a different perspective, perhaps. And for that I am grateful.