She (FMF #45)

I link up with Lisa-Jo on Fridays for a writing flash mob…throwing caution to the wind and gathering to share what a few minutes of free writing can buy.

Today’s topic: SHE

WOMAN-SUNSET-SILHOUETTE

GO.

She haunts me at times.

Those times when I’ve fallen or am crawling or have done the things I don’t want to do and haven’t done the things I want to do…those are the times she haunts me.

I see her gliding by on waves of grace, unencumbered by her flaws and failures, her sin and pain. Her chin is high and her eyes are bright and she seems very content just being who she is.

She haunts me.

I watch her with envy and longing and awe, really — it’s her confidence and peace that sometimes seems so unattainable. It lights from the inside out, like a refuge on a dark night or a beacon to a weary traveler.

I am a weary traveler.

Those times when I’ve fallen or am crawling or have done the things I don’t want to do and haven’t done the things I want to do…those are the times she walks by slowly and purposefully and looks into my face deeply, as if she’s trying to pass along her confidence and peace; as if she’s trying to make me shine from the inside out, too.

And those are the times she suddenly changes. Instead of being one who haunts me, she becomes a beacon of hope. She is the image, the eikon of Christ. The one who I am again and again and again being transformed into.

She is who He is trying to make me to be.

And so this weary traveler picks herself up and shakes the dust of her feet and carries on. Her gait is awkward and she’s weighed down with her flaws and failures, but she decides to burn her yokes and moves forward anyway.

And each time her eyes brighten just enough to light the way for the next step of the journey.

STOP.

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Story (FMF #44)

I link up with Lisa-Jo on Fridays for a writing flash mob…throwing caution to the wind and gathering to share what a few minutes of free writing can buy.

Today’s topic: STORY

GO.

GIRL WITH BOOK-70

I have it memorized and can call it forth at any given moment.

There once was a girl, and she felt pretty average and fairly inadequate in all she did.

And she would start new things and quit before she ever finished.

And she would shrink back and try to blend in and hide.

And she never quite believed she was anything special, though she wanted to be in the worst way.

So she lived life in the quiet and in the fear and teetered on the edge of What Could Be.

Oftentimes the story sometimes stays on repeat at the front of my brain and filters everything I say or do or taste or feel.

But sometimes it is way in the back of my brain, until one day I remember it’s there and then it moves itself to the front for a while again.

And we do this dance, me and this story, and sometimes I lead and sometimes it does, but usually it ends with me shrinking back and hiding.

Living in fear is exhausting.

The story is not a classic anymore. It’s not a fun vintage one with a golden spine and whimsical illustrations that make me smile.

Instead it’s just old and tattered. The pages are ripped and the cover is torn.

It’s time to throw it away.

There’s a new story waiting to be opened.

STOP.

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Present (FMF #43)

I link up with Lisa-Jo on Fridays for a writing flash mob…throwing caution to the wind and gathering to share what a few minutes of free writing can buy.

Today’s topic: PRESENT

GO.

BUTTERFLY METAMORPHOSIS-SEVENTIES

I’m very comfortable with this place — this place where I’m not seen, behind the computer and hiding among the flowers on the wall and blending into the background. This place where there is not a lot of responsibility and not a lot expected of me and this place that is not that vulnerable. Because it’s easy to be transparent and open when it’s black letters on a white screen and quite another when it requires me to move away from behind the screen.

I’m very comfortable with this place — this present place where it’s so easy to trust God when I don’t have to. I can boast in my trust in Him when there’s not a lot of strength I require from Him. When it doesn’t necessarily have to be His strength I’m able to stand up with, when it’s my own, really…and I haven’t noticed that until now.

My present is changing. That comfortable place is quickly becoming my past, not my present, and the uncomfortable place is quickly becoming my present, not my future. And that brings knocking to my knees, and quickening to my breath, and herds of butterflies to my stomach. I cannot survive in that place on my own. I’m not made to stand up in that place — that place where I can’t hide among the flowers on the wall. It’s a foreign place where I don’t speak the language or look like the natives and the currency is one that I don’t understand.

Yet that’s what happens when the cocooning time is over. The caterpillar is no longer the same and it requires supernatural strength to break through the cocoon and allow its new wings to expand and flap and get strong. And it has to trust that God has made those wings to fly, not fall, and trust that the Creator knew what He was doing when He changed its present so drastically and completely.

STOP.

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Listen (FMF #42)

I link up with Lisa-Jo on Fridays for a writing flash mob…throwing caution to the wind and gathering to share what a few minutes of free writing can buy. 

(And yes, it’s Saturday, but I’m at the beach so I’m technically on island time.)

Today’s topic: LISTEN

BRITLAND-POOL

GO.

The boys stayed to take a nap so just my girl and me — my girl who’s nine and tweeny and both grown up and grown down — we went to the pool for some mommy-daughter time.

We grabbed our noodles and jumped into the deep end — no easing into the water for her. We used the noodle as a surf board and had standing contests, and we used it as a horse and had racing contests and we used it as an armchair to lay back and relax.

And then somehow, we started talking in British accents and I started calling her “ducky” and she started calling me “mum” and made up a place called Britland and deserved an Academy Award for our performance.

And there, on the noodles in the middle of Britland, my tweeny, grown up and grown down girl leaned in very close and whispered very, very softly,

“This is fun.”

And because I was right there, in that moment with her, embracing all things Brit and listening, I heard it as if it were a shout from the mountaintop…as if it were my own Academy Award.

STOP.

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Imagine (FMF #41)

Wow, it’s been eight weeks since I’ve done a Five Minute Friday. I don’t even know what to say, I’m so disgusted with myself! So here goes, I’m back in the mix. Hope y’all will welcome me back with open arms!

I link up with Lisa-Jo on Fridays for a writing flash mob…throwing caution to the wind and gathering to share what a few minutes of free writing can buy. 

Today’s topic: IMAGINE

IMG_0001

GO.

Here, where the sky is an electric kind of blue — the kind that gives you a surging hope and anticipation for something wonderful.

Here, where the dandelion stands alone in the field.

Where I have this amazing view, and how can I not stand in awe that this is a moment I get to have, today?

Where life has #nofilter.

Where yesterday and tomorrow are hazy and gray and fuzzy and unclear, here and now is living in technicolor. It’s the warmth of the sun and the cool of the shade and the breath of the breeze and it’s soaking it all in because it’s too beautiful not to.

Where I embrace each moment He gives and squeeze every drop of life out of it because it’s just. perfect.

Where He shows me this is just one moment in a lifetime of endless possibilities of what He has planned, if I’d only let go and allow myself to just be.

STOP.

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