Five Minute Friday: Encouragement

It’s funny how little things encourage me. A sudden, sneaky joke from my husband, that just makes me laugh over our dinner table. When all seems so somber and serious and quite frankly, a little dull, in came my husband with a statement that just made me laugh and laugh.

Or how about when I go upstairs to get my daughter from her crib. The way she looks at me as I walk through the door, with a kind of gleeful anticipation, and how she will be silly or serious, depending on her mood, and hand me her blanky, because you know mom, I can’t go anywhere without this.

Or how a simple thank you from your boss, because he knows he’s been so busy the last several weeks, and how I may have allowed some insecurity to creep in and wonder, are we okay? Which I did ask him, and he said yes, and then he said, he must be busier than he should be … and so today, a deliberate thank you from him to me.

Or a verse and how it will sing gloriously off the pages of Scripture when you are waking up with your tea and your daughter is faithfully watching the morning cartoons, with the sound off, as mommy needs to “hear” her Savior … and how that verse just lifts off the page into your mind and down into your heart.

Those things, and more, are great examples of encouragement in my life.

Five Minute Friday: Fight

If there is one word that represents what I do not want 2014 to be is a year full of “Fight.” This word, unfortunately, has many roots in some memories from a time before I would rather not think on.

So, with the dawning of a new day, a new year, or even a new moment, I have hopes for peace, comfort and rest. I believe I am experiencing all those things and more in each and every day. I believe I receive the opposite of “fight” each time I hold my daughter in my arms. It's the same feeling of when I lay in my husband's arms. It's the feeling of family, of warmth, of closeness, of a general feeling of belonging that I rest in almost every day.

As the years have added to my life these new experiences and warm feelings, I am filled with such thankfulness for a Father in Heaven, Who has walked with me through the winding roads of my past, and Who is straightening those paths in front of me as we walk into a future I only dreamed of before.

I look up at Him, my precious Father and Friend, and I say thank you, Jesus, for leading me out of my “fight” and into my peace.

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”—Jeremiah 29:11

Sinaia, Romania (2005)

Five Minute Friday: Ordinary and Write

Below are two Five Minute Friday prompts. This week was off the word ordinary, and last week's was off the word write. The two fit nicely together, so I thought I'd post them both.

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Ordinary

When I was younger, I wanted to be anything but ordinary. I dreamed big and had aspirations that I imagine a lot of young people do.

When I was small, that dream was to be a ballet dancer. They were so beautiful with their graceful lines and delicate movement. Yes, that's what I wanted to be.

Then, it was to be an English teacher, even though I really was not very good at writing. Grammar, well that was another story.

The dreams began to fade for a while. I was just happy if I could make it to adulthood with as few emotional scars as possible. Lots of turmoil in those days, growing up. My high school years. And I was not quiet about it, turning some of my friends off with constant complaining.

Fast forward to Jesus, and my dreams were put into His hands. He lifted my view of the ordinary and guided me to a dream of a family. A husband. Children. And a church family to step in and become that stability I had so long needed in my life.

But during the first days with Jesus, He allowed me to dream about becoming a screen writer or a director or a writer or a photographer. I explored all those avenues until I graduated from college.

Since His dream for me of a family was not presenting itself, as quickly as I had thought, I began to live daily in the moments He provided me.

And my days have been anything but ordinary.

(The italicized portion was written after my “Five” minutes.)

Stehekin, WA(2008)

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Write

For as long as I can remember, I did not want to be a writer. I was actually a quite terrible writer. I couldn't get my words to say what I intended them to say going to school, and so, I was into math, science, physics even. Then, something changed in my 10^th grade English class. I wrote a paper on the topic of Sarcasm. And I got an A-. An A-! Those were the grades for my other classes … and yet, I did always have a penchant for grammar, being dubbed the grammar goddess in a successive English class only missing one or two out of 100 total questions. Yes, pride is an ugly thing, but I do think for me, it's nice to remember a bit of my history since so much has changed in my life these last three years.

But writing … who would have guessed that was going to play such a large role in my future? And it does. Today, that writing has taken on the form of pithy facebook statuses or an occasional heart-felt journal entry that I can turn into a devotion on my blog. Praise God for His guidance and gifting for that.

Lately, though, writing has taken the form of reading. I cannot believe how many books I have read this year. My mom gave me her Kindle, and it was all she wrote, so to speak. I have been reading so many words, so many thoughts on the pages of other writer's dreams. And I have been lifted again, to dream of that book that someday I hope to write, its words and topic still unknown to me, but brewing ever so gently in the background of my days.

(The italicized portion was written after my “Five” minutes.)

Five Minute Friday: She

She, who is my daughter. With her chocolate brown eyes and deep brown curls. With her crinkle nose smiles and her fake whines. With her cuddles in blankets and games of up and down and peek-a-boo. She, who is my daughter, I'm falling in love with everyday. One minute my eyes will be on the computer screen deciphering an email from a co-worker, and the next minute they are resting on my daughter as she plays face down on the carpet in our “office” underneath her blanket—her first fort.

At first, I didn't feel that overwhelming love for her. At first, she felt like an inconvenience, yes one that was wanted, but an inconvenience just the same. But she, who is my daughter, is teaching me what it means to love unconditionally. She, who is my daughter, loves her mommy, and in return, I want to love her as I am meant to. I know this love cannot be without our Divine Savior because only in Him is perfect love. Daily, I take this journey with my daughter, and with our hands intertwined, we will walk toward a more perfect love for one another.

Me and my little girl.
(April 2013)

Five Minute Friday: Red

I know I've written about her before, even on my blog. But her eyes stand out and always will. I can only be in awe of the depth of the look she gave me those years ago, after the “great” flood of Onesti, when my church family went to give a puppet Bible lesson to all the children in her village. She stunned me with her look and behind her was a boy, barely older than her looking off into the distance at just the right moment, when my finger touched the button that set in motion their capture on my camera.

That red sweater. How old was it? Where did it come from? Was it in the dumpster behind one of the many bloc apartment buildings when mom or dad went scavenging for anything of value to keep their family fed? I didn't look that closely, but I imagine it was frayed and filthy, nothing like the beauty of her face … of her innocence.

It was that look in her eyes that captivated me before, and it will always be the look in her eyes that keeps my attention in the years to come. She was beautiful. This little girl. A gypsy. An innocent.

Miora (Conti, Romania)
July 2005

Five Minute Friday: Worship

“Blessed are they that put their trust in him.”—Psalms 2:12b

Somewhere between the yesterday and tomorrow, the minutes exist where I breath prayerfully upward and ask the Lord to help me trust Him. Before I went into my long list of "If it be Your will, Father, please do this, fill this, heal this," and so on, I decided to name what Jesus is to me.

He is:

The Great I Am

He's the Master of the universe

He's the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End

He's my Savior

He's your Savior

He's my Rock, my Strong Tower

My Help in my time of need

He's my Creator

And the Master Designer of every living thing

He's my Destiny

He's my Forever

He's my very precious Friend.

He's so much more than all this, but in reading over my finite list of who He is to me, I am humbled by Him. I wonder at myself for doubting Him … for those strange little thoughts that creep in and question who He is and all He's doing in my life and in the lives of those I love.

I am Jairus asking Jesus to heal his daughter and I'm the demoniac's father, telling God I believe, but to increase my faith.

I am His. And in this, I worship.*

(*This post needed a more solid end, in my mind, so I wrote this part after the five minutes.)

The Black Sea
Mangalia, Romania (August 2005)

Five Minute Friday: Lonely (Part II)

This is the second part of my Five Minute Friday "Story." So far I'd say last week's and this week's writing loosely fit together. Maybe by next week's post, it will have more of a story feel. We'll see. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway.

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There is a certain timidity, she thought, when she would venture forth to put words together in some kind of sentence, story or novel. She thought often that what if the words were few and were nonsensical when put together. One word, after the other, and then what? Sometimes, she felt it was all a sham. Sometimes, she would have to muster the faith it took to simply put those words together. As she thought about it, the feeling kind of reminded her of those terrible blind dates, one in particular that felt like two walls meeting, when she walked past the threshold of the door, placed her vision upon one man in particular, and wondered if he was the one she was supposed to meet. He was, and when they shook hands, she felt like the Great Wall of China meeting the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. Two large edifices of personalities that could not find the doorway into each others heart. That was for the best, in the long run. But without that initial meeting, there wouldn't be another meeting of the next person, and then the next person, to hopefully, you know, “the one.”

But we're talking about her words here. She wondered if she would leave out thoughts, grammar and words, perhaps making the story a bit more lonely in its attempt to tell a tale.

Five Minute Friday: Story (Part I)

I thought I'd try something a little different for my Five Minute Friday writing exercises. Using this week's prompt and another fellow blogger's idea, I am going to use these five minutes a week to craft out a story, which may be a little like creative nonfiction in places, as part of it will reflect a little of me, albeit creatively. I hope you join me to watch the story unfold. 

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The word, the time, the day. It seemed so far away from her at the moment. All she could do was look out the window and imagine the what if. What if he never came for her. What if she was waiting in vain for a man that was a figment of her imagination. The air was so still outside. The leaves barely made movements from the wind. The sun's rays were harsh and unyielding. They were like her desire for marriage … yearnings of the heart that were unrelenting in their merry-go-round like pulls on her heart. Is he there? How about here? Is he the one ringing up my groceries, Lord? How about him? He has a good job, good morals, and good looks. Surely it's him.

Silence. Like the breeze outside. She heard nothing. She prayed for guidance, for wisdom, for any noticeable direction. The paths she should walk. The careers she should choose. And the prerequisites she should have. Sometimes, depending on the day, the prerequisite was that he would simply be available.

So, she rounded the corner … entering a new street. A new chapter. And another hope.

Five Minute Friday: Belong

For as long as I can remember, I had always wanted my own family. I think it was an outgrowth of not having the “perfect” childhood … who does. But there were some unique trials in my growing up that did two things to me. Before Christ leading my life, it was a rejection of the traditional marriage and family. I was going to be a career woman and that was that. I was allergic to men, I told myself. It made me feel okay with such a strong rejection of what I thought was expected of me. But then, the age of 23 hit, and I knew I was making bad choices. Stupid choices and dangerous choices. I knew this was wrong and I became to feel it like a two-ton weight on my back. I yearned for wholeness. For healing. For clear-headedness on life.

Everything seemed so confusing and monumental, and not in a good way, and I craved peace.

And that’s when it changed. I looked up instead of out. I yielded upward, my life, my choices, my future, and for the first time, I began to feel a sense of belonging. A church family helped that. My own relatives guided me toward that destination. Jesus decided to give me a heart’s desire for a husband and family. Only, instead of trusting in His perfect timing and plans, I had my own idea of how it was to happen.

But He gently nudged me in the right direction.

Sibiu, Romania (December 2005)

Five Minute Friday: Beautiful

Let's just start with one of my favorite subjects in all the world—my beautiful daughter. I look at her and it never ceases to amaze me just how beautiful she is. I love her eyes, her face, her beautiful dimples when she chooses to show them. I love the curls of her hair, and the intrepid way she explores our house. I love the color of her skin and the way it feels the next day after a bath and some lotion. I love her calm ways and her intermittent intensities that mark her learning.

I love the days, weeks, months and hours that have passed in which I have gotten to know her more and more. I love her “Daughter, your heart's not in that” whines and the way she (every time!) throws her sippy cup to the floor from her high chair, as if it was going to land a different way than it did the last one-thousandth time!

I love her. I love her. I love her. But you want to know something about this love? It was not instant. I didn't feel what I feel for her today, when she entered our lives. And the beauty of it? The pure beauty of it? I know I will feel even more love for her tomorrow and the day after that, and yes, the day after that. For that is the beauty of being her mother.

(This was my second take of the FMF prompt, and it was truthfully written in a little over five minutes, which is that italicized part at the end.) 

My daughter's curls.
(Spokane, WA, July 2013)

Five Minute Friday: In Between

The word gentleness keeps coming into my thoughts. I think of fuzzy teddy bears, like the one on the Snuggle commercials. I think of my husband and his sweet spirit that is gentleness to my soul. I think of the sweet hugs and touches I give my daughter displaying a gentleness only a mommy can give her child. I think of my Savior, and His gentleness toward me and His drawing me into the arms of His love, where I rest in between His shoulders like the sweet apostle whom Jesus loved.

I'm not sure why this word keeps rounding itself in my mind because the day outside has a sort of loud clanging and drudgery that comes with a thunderstorm. But if I listen in between the noise of thunder, I hear the soft breeze that lightens the mood of the storm. It's there in the stillness and intermittent sunshine that I recognize my life has a similar rhythm of gentleness in between the storms of life.

Brasov, Romania (February 2006)

Five Minute Friday: Rhythm

Quiet has its own rhythm. The silence of the house. The soundless look of love your baby passes your way. The way spaghetti boils on the stove and the casserole cooks in the oven.

Trees grow and flowers grow and to my husband's dismay, grass grows all too quickly. Sun shines and rain sprinkles. Even children playing far off in the distance on their favorite playground swing has a silent rhythm. A quiet joy that tickles your heart and brings a smile to your face. To your soul.

Silence is a priceless sound that many do not take note of. Jesus often wanted to leave the multitude to catch “His breath,” if you will. He needed a quiet reprieve with His heavenly Father in between His compassionate healings of all mankind.

His hugs to us come in silence. He directs His still small voice as He points us to the “hug” our heart's needed in that very moment. A beautiful thought. A gorgeous picture. A view from up above. All that whisper to our heart the sweet sound of His love.

Stehekin, WA (2010)

Five Minute Friday: Listen

Where to begin. Where to start, on the word, listen. I think of flowers growing and my daughter learning. Is it possible to listen in between the inches and the words? I think of my Savior and what He hears in my own life and growth, and I know He can listen to the yesterday, today and tomorrow of my life in perfect clarity. I wonder what He hears?

And do I listen well? Do I listen to His calling, His gentle nudges and still small voice? I think of Elijah and listening to the thunder outside and wondering if God's voice was there … not until God told him it was in the still small voice in which He speaks to us, could Elijah hear the voice of God and in what direction he was supposed to walk.

And I listen. To the voice of my Savior and the new sounds my daughter makes. I listen to the quiet language of my husband and the sounds of life outside.

I listen. I trust.

Poppies.
Spokane, WA (2013)

Five Minute Friday: Fall

Thinking about the word compassion this morning has led me to read a handful of passages on it in the Bible, and what I realize is just how much I need to learn and live this subject. I am usually so quick to judge, to put people on the stand in my own little box I've made for them and to condemn them on where they are at in their lives and where they are not. And despite my knowing that this is totally not my place, I find myself doing it over and over and over again.

I fall. A lot.

And then Jesus takes my fallen self, and lifts me back up. He tells me that a just man falls seven times and rises up again. Surely, you can allow people in your life to do the same. Am I being like Jesus when I perform a trial in my heart for someone? Wouldn't it be better to stop before I take them to the stand, and ask Jesus, Lord, how can you use me to keep them from falling? How can I be a help, even in the quiet of my heart where only God and I see the trials I put on for people.

Lord, please keep me from falling.

Sullivan Lake (Near Ione, WA)
Fall 2007

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This was today's Five Minute Friday writing. For more information about this writing exercise many bloggers across the Web participate in, click here or on the button below.

Five Minute Friday: Imagine

It's a sunny day. The leaves are glistening with the color of light and shadow, gently swaying in the kindest, loveliest breeze a day can bring. And I sit here on my couch. Learning a new laptop. Trying to write something profound, provocative and even pithy. And why not? Writers do that, right?

My baby girl sits at my feet playing with her toys trying her best to mimic the sounds coming from her toy keyboard. Two. One. The green frog says ribbit … ribbit. And my daughter adds her own sounds, her own music. Her own joy.

Then I imagine us twenty years from now. Will the light brought to the leaves be brighter or duller? Will her words carry the soft sounds of joy like today's wind touches the leaves outside? Will her world be one in which she can carry her dreams to her desired destination as I sit back and marvel at the beauty inside her?

I hope so. I hope she touches the Hand of the One Who created her and walks with Him down the streets of her tomorrow.

My living room window.
Spokane, WA (2013)

Five Minute Friday: Song

See the birds in the sky. Flying above all the cares, all the tragedies and all our sadness.

They soar on the songs of the wind. Higher and higher they go, until at some point, they are out of our vision.

But with them, they carry a vision of our own making. Taking with them the lost moments of the day. The frustrations. The ill will we carry in our hearts.

So, that when they are removed from our sight, we can see clearer than before. We see the present and tomorrow with hope and joyful anticipation that something better will settle into our hearts.

Once the past is removed, the ugly past. The past that we don’t like reflecting on in our soul’s mirror. That past. Once it is removed. We begin to soar, like those birds who carried away our longings.

We start to sing the songs of flight coasting in the air with our wings. But for perfect peace. For perfect soaring, we need to recognize that our wings need to rest under God’s wings.

All because in order for our song to have that perfect pitch, it needs to be yielded, humbled, and settled under the loving wings of our Heavenly Father.

Spokane, WA (2013)

Five Minute Friday: Comfort

Holy Spirit, the Great Comforter, please be my guide as I attempt to share a precious memory that is only one day old.

Yesterday, my daughter, who is just shy of 10 months old, gave me a gift. It was a gift covered in her smile and wrapped with her squeals of affection. We were resting together on the living room couch—after a long day filled with so much activity. Dishes—as in her bottles—were dirty in the sink but I forced myself to enjoy a restful moment with my daughter.

And it was not found wanting.

I wrapped her with my arms and pulled her close, covered with one of her beautiful blankets. And we spent time cuddling, laughing, kissing and hugging.

At that moment, my heart was sealed with love for my precious daughter.

Inside, my heart was filled with so much comfort, affection and love.

It was precious. My gift, this first Mother’s Day.

Five Minute Friday: Brave

Brave is the sitting back and watching God as He mends the broken pieces of your life back together.

Brave is the letting go and letting Him. We all face these kinds of moments in our every day, but many of us still have pieces of ourselves lost and broken in the wilderness of our past. Brave.

Sit back. Read Scripture and let the verses on the pages of His word mend you, heal you and set you free. That’s what it was like for me. Some forgiveness. Some clarity. Some peace of mind. All to set me on the straight and narrow of the path He had for me since before I was born.

Brave. In the letting go. And letting Him.

Brave is also in the minute details of our lives. Brave was when despite my daughter’s tears and yells of frustration, I kept her in the tub to try and remove the cradle cap from her scalp. Yes, my daughter, I know you don’t like this. Brave was the calmness of my voice, and the whispers of my love through her tears and the continuation of the task we had to get done.

Isn’t that what God’s healing is like? He takes us into places that are uncomfortable. That get us frightened. That make some of us cry inwardly, while some of us yell out uncontrollably. But brave is in the walking down that road with Him anyway. But perhaps, He is the One Who is brave. He walks us through our dark valleys because He knows we must get to the other side.

He is our Brave.

Five Minute Friday: After

After the pain, after the rain

After the tears, after the years

After the waiting, after the hurting

After the when, after the then

We need, we feed

On God’s Word

Come what may, come what might

Let us not be afraid or in flight

Be still, be real

For God is near

Never fear

Jesus waits on us

Yearns for us

To come to Him and find Him

In the ashes, in the dust

Our lives, never complete

For without Him,

We can do nothing.

There is a before, there is a behind

We know not what we will find

In the coming days

Of God’s ways

Just stay the course

Begin again if you must

But never forget

That He has an eternal

After

Where we will put our face

In His hands

And rest there

Forever.

Five Minute Friday: Broken

So many pieces of our lives. So much fragility. So much sin. But He knows our frame. He died for us. The one who was perfect. The one who was without sin.

Lives are torn apart and broken through the consequences and choices of others. If we could stop. Breathe. Get centered on God’s truth, how many choices would never be made. And how much of our lives and the lives of those around us not suffer the consequences of our decisions?

But we are broken. Sinful. Full of fear, envy and anger. We know not how to walk. We think we do, but we don’t and our lives bear that out.

But then, He was broken, bruised and crucified to give us a better life. To free us from our bondage to sin and lies and hate. The flesh.

And it doesn’t stop there. When salvation is received, He turns our ashes into beauty. Have you ever stood back and looked at the choices – the poor choices—you’ve made and seen how God has made them beautiful? To me, I am ever in awe of the power God has had over my life to turn my brokenness into beauty.

Savior, I love you.