The vibrant yellow flower danced in the light breeze; its beauty a stark contrast to the dirt and grime of my windshield. I had just finished a half hour with Jesus in adoration, searching for encouragement and hope against the intruding voice of the enemy- the voice who was pulling at me with increasing frequency.

A half an hour earlier, these words reverberated in my mind with each step toward the chapel.

You can’t do this.

You aren’t good enough.

This is not your calling.

As I entered adoration, I pleaded with Jesus to relinquish my fears.

If this is your will for me, please give me encouragement! Give me
clarity! Push back against my human desire to give up.

“I can do this” would die on my lips and be replaced with “this may be
for her, but it’s not for me.”

I prayed for the Lord to reignite the spark I felt earlier that year.

A few months ago I felt the tug from the Holy Spirit to start writing. A recent silent retreat I had attended had opened my mind and heart to the gifts the Lord has given me. The fruit that came from following the call of the Lord was a series of poems— free-flowing thoughts from the vulnerable places we often keep hidden from others. Musings on motherhood, faith, beauty, and goodness. The words that came were raw and honest, truthful but simplistic. At times I felt the anointing of the Holy Spirit— using my voice, but writing His words. I shared with a small circle of friends and got uplifting responses. I felt connection and knew my words resonated, as simple and simplistic as they were. But at other times, the cloud of discouragement hovered above me, leaving a trail of despair in its wake.

In the months that followed, I had moments of great encouragement. A meeting with a Catholic speaker and author had given me hope, along with uncertainty and a little fear of where the Lord would take this next. The evening before this day in adoration, I was led to some websites where Catholic authors submitted their poetry. As I scanned the page, my heart sunk.

These poems are rich, truly poetic, deeply theological.

I could NEVER submit my simple writings. They seemed childish in comparison, merely an elementary version of these reflections. I yearned to speak with the Lord in prayer the following morning.

The first reading for the day came from Deuteronomy 31:1-8. In the middle
of the reading, I was struck.

“Be brave and steadfast; have no fear or dread of them, for it is
the LORD, your God, who marches with you; he will never fail
you or forsake you.”

Be brave.
Be steadfast.
Have no fear of them.

Ok, Lord! I see you!

I couldn’t help but smile at the way the Lord saw what I needed.

Clearly spoken words from the Bible.
Heartfelt.
Simple, but inspiring.

Words that landed “just right” at the time I needed to hear them.
How similar to what I was just lamenting about - my own simple
poetry.

I walked out of adoration with a slightly renewed spirit. I was ready to keep pushing forward against the enemy, one who was ready to hush the words inside my head and close the book the Lord was writing.

I slid into the driver’s seat and that’s when I saw it. It was glaringly obvious, impossible to overlook.

A vibrant yellow flower, dancing in the breeze, wedged underneath the blade of the windshield wiper. I sat thoughtfully for a moment and looked around. There was no one. A simple beautiful flower, meant just for me.

I smiled and thought, “God has something to do with this.”

I snapped a picture of it, and drove away with it clinging to the blade. The petals whipped in the wind, but refused to release their hold. Refused to give up. How ironic, I thought.

Upon getting home, I looked up the meaning of this type of flower. It was a Black-Eyed Susan. Its meaning?

“In the language of flowers, the Black-Eyed Susan is often associated with encouragement, motivation, and justice. These meanings stem from the flower’s vibrant and enduring nature, representing resilience and a positive outlook.”

I stood there, starting at Google, the phone balanced on the palm of my hand. And then I laughed. I smiled. I felt tears pricking at the corner of my eyes.

Of course. Of course it would have meaning! The Holy Spirit prompted someone to place this exact flower on my windshield during the 30 minutes I was praying in adoration for encouragement.

And His answer for me was not wrapped in sonnets, or ambiguity. It wasn’t carefully chosen diction with alluring undertones. It wasn’t intricate language where I would need a dictionary to uncover its meaning.

It was a single flower blowing in the summer breeze. Beauty found in the simplicity of nature. A subtle reminder that there is beauty to be found in the simplicity of my poems.

If writing is a charism given to me from the Lord, I have to accept that it may look different from others.  

As a good friend reminded me—the words you write will not be for everyone. But you need to keep writing…. for those it IS meant for.

So, I will continue to push aside the temptation to give up on the very gift God may have intended for me to use for His glory, and in times of desolation, will call to mind a particular quote—

“A flower does not think of competing with the flower next to it. It just blooms.” (Zen Shin)

Jennifer Malecha is a wife and mother of 3, and former teacher turned stay at home mom. She loves a good mystery book, writing with a cup of coffee in hand, chatting about faith & motherhood and cheering on her beloved Green Bay Packers! She is following the call of the Lord with her writing--using her voice to write HIS words!