Five Minute Friday: Race

On Fridays we play around with the Five Minute Friday meme. Here's today's musings:

The race is to the swift.

Slow and steady wins the race.

Most races involve single-mindedly following one course of action in a manner which makes the runner complete the course ahead of all other runners. Success in this type of race involves choices by the runner based on choices by other runners. It can be as much reactive as proactive.

There are other kinds of races, though—the kinds where the runner is expected to accomplish a set list of tasks issued by the race organizers. Those tasks can be the same as others, or they can be comparable.

While both involve competition, which is a more apt metaphor for life? Should I scheme to shoulder ahead of my fellow competitors, or should I work to accomplish the tasks set before me by the Great Race Organizer?

I'm going with the latter. When Paul talks about running “the good race,” I do not think he meant that he pushed himself to pre-eminence; I cannot help but think that he viewed his own personal race course—fraught with obstacles—to have been completed according to God's direction.

So, no more looking over my shoulder. I'm running the course God has set out for me.

Lead me, Lord.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Five Minute Friday: Grasp

On Fridays we scribble along with the nice folks at Five Minute Friday.  Here's the latest as it rolled out of my exhausted brain:

I grasp at them.

The grains of time's sandglass

barely slow down as they

sift through my winnowing fingers.

They are the moments of my existence,

and I feel them slipping away

into the ocean of memories

that is my past.

They join other memories

making eddies of sorrow and joy,

and when I dip my hand

in that maelstrom,

I cannot retrieve joy without sorrow.

But, along with with sorrow

are the grains of joy.

So should I live that,

when my aged mind begins

to drown in the sea of memories,

the sorrow is but a small eddy

in a joyful ocean.

Starting today.

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Five Minute Friday: Focus

Around here we join other Five Minute Friday folds to write for five minutes, raw, half-baked, authentic.  Here's today's entry on FOCUS:

Focus.

Snort.

Focus?  Of course I can--look at the shiny, sparkly thing!--focus.  (Shameless, I know, but I could not resist.)

Focus.  Ahem.  Focus.  There was a time when I had focus and a mind like a steel trap.  Now, my mind is like a steel sieve.  Oh, I can focus on most of the big stuff before it oozes through the mesh, but the small stuff is beginning to get away from me.

And, there's so much of it--the small stuff.  No longer can I follow one responsibility exclusively to its conclusion; multiple activities demand my attention at the same time.  Not all of those activities are of equal importance and just prioritizing them is exhausting.  Speaking of exhausting, did you know . . .

Oops.  Focus.

It's better when I rest.  So, get enough rest.  Sure thing.  Right after I write this entry and update my blogs and plan the next activity and go to the garden and feed the cats and . . . and . . .

Focus.

"Looking to Jesus . . ."

Focus.

"the author . . ."

Focus.

"and perfecter of our faith."

Focus.  On You.

I get it, Lord.

Focus.


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Five Minute Friday: Graceful

It's Five Minute Friday again! Here's the latest, unedited:

Graceful.

I've never been particular graceful. I reached my full height at an early age, so my brain and body did not always seem to be connected. My family was not all well off, financially, and dancing lessons and organized sports were deemed too expensive. My interest in, and some aptitude for, piano was indulged at great personal sacrifice by my parents and grandparents (who were not well off, either). Not just because the library loaned books for free, reading was highly encouraged as a recreational pursuit. So, I'm not particularly graceful. In fact, I'm downright clumsy. But that's okay because that kind of graceful may be socially desirable, but has no eternal benefits.

Grace-full.

That's what I'd like to be. All this week I've been studying about grace—the grace God offered before I even knew I needed it, the grace God offered when I realized that I could not ever be worthy on my own, and the grace God offers which molds me in His image. That's the kind of grace which reproaches, reproves, encourages, upbraids, educates, and comforts me. That's the kind of grace I can only have when I surrender to His will and let Him fill me.

Like a pitcher.

Is that what I am? Am I His pitcher, to be filled with His grace so He can pour it out on those around me?

I like that. Fill me, Lord, with your grace, then pour it out on a world thirsty for You, then fill me again with the water that quenches Eternal Thirst.

Grace-full.

Thank you, Lord.

Five Minute Friday: Change

Fridays around here are for writing, for five minutes, unedited, hot-off-the-press. Today's topic is

Change

Always a good thing, right? Because lack of change is stagnation which is, after all, no change at all. But is change enough? How many times have I made a decision to change just so I would not remain the same? How often has that change effected a positive result?

In all honestly, more often than not. I think I've been lucky. Just because the results have been positive does not mean that the change was necessary or even good. Perhaps the change was safer than digging in; perhaps I should have taken another path.

All I know is that change, for change's sake, is not enough any more. I cannot just change; I must grow. Emotionally. Ethically. Spiritually.

Growth. Now that would be the right change.

Read more at Five Minute Friday!

 

Five Minute Friday: Join

Around here, we write for 5 minutes on Fridays, unedited, unvarnished.

Join: a verb, usually referring to one person taking up with a group of people in a common endeavor. It also is a verb referring to the act of connecting two objects, like two pieces of wood. Those pieces of wood can be working side by side—in which case the join laminates the two, giving the joined pair the combined strength of both.

More delicate is the joining of wood at an angle. At minimum, something must hold the two together, like nails or glue, but, to be stronger, pieces of each must extend into the other, like interlocking fingers. The joint is stronger, but each retains its own identity.

Most delicate is the joining of wood at ends to make one continuous piece. It is possible just to abut the ends together and connect them with glue, but that is the weakest joint. That joint, to be strong, requires careful overlapping and even fusion of elements of both to be strong enough for the task. It is the joint that takes the most time, and requires the most of each.

And so it is with my walk with the Lord. I can walk alongside Him, or I can allow Him into specific places in my life while reserving others for myself, or I can surrender completely to Him.

Join me unto You, oh Lord, until I cannot tell where I end and you begin. Amen.

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Five Minute Friday: Enough

Well, it's Friday again and I get to play along the The Gypsy Mama for Five Minute Friday.  I write five minutes, unedited, on the topic.  Here goes:

I've spent most of my life with too much: too much food, too many clothes, too many things. One of the things I remember most about my grandparents is how much they managed to do with what little they had. I'm beginning to realize that one of my biggest problems is that I have too much, and no place to put it.

God promised he would supply my needs, but I insist upon fulfilling my wants, too. Funny thing is: I don't want as much as I used to. I'm tired of the things; they weary me. I'm ready to be satisfied with enough.

That means having to purge the “too much” to pare down to enough. I thought it would be tiring, but it's actually energizing.

So, here I go, Lord, trusting you to supply enough and asking for your help the break the “want” addiction. With You, nothing is impossible.

Check out other authors' musings on enough at

Five Minute Friday: Story

Well, here's the latest Five Minute Friday attempt at writing for five minutes--unedited, unvarnished.  Today's topic is

Story


I have a story I've been working on for a number of years.  I really like the plot.  I really, really like the characters.  Maybe that's the problem.  Maybe I like them a little too much.  Maybe they're all in black hats and white hats.

Who is like that?

Have I ever known anyone who was, in every single circumstance, entirely noble and good?  Of course not.

So why am I writing my characters that way?  Why is my hero noble and perfect and . . .

Oh.

Perfect.


So, there's part of the problem.  There is no problem, no inner conflict.  The exterior conflict--the plot--is just window dressing for the real story:  the inner conflict of the characters.  That's the part that rocks the reader, the element that resonates, haunts, inspires.

And my hero, as much as I like him, doesn't do any of those things.  He could.  After all, he's come through so much in his personal life, none of which was his fault.  Would he not have stumbled along the way?  What would he have done?

What is his story?

Sigh.

Please excuse me.  There's someone I need to get to know again.  Warts and all.

End Story


So, there it is.  Check out other musings on "story" over with Lisa-Jo Baker's Gypsy Mama.

Five Minute Friday: Risk

Happy Friday!  We're writing along with GypsyMama's Five Minute Friday today.  That means we'll put pen to paper, er, bits to blog, and write, unedited, on today's topic.  Here we go!

Risk

Gulp.  They say that Hell's the place where you get what you asked for (who said that anyway?), and, sometimes it seems that way.

A new opportunity has come along.  On an intellectual level, and an occasional level, I welcomed it.  But now, it's here and it's real and it's daunting.  Scratch that--it's terrifying.

What's so scary?

Well, other people will be depending on me and I'm afraid of letting them down--of not being good enough.  I'm afraid of criticism.  I'm afraid of . . .  I.

Well.  There's the problem:  I.  I'm not so sure about "I."

What am I sure about?  Well, I'm sure about Him.  Do I believe he put me in this place??  Yes, I really do.

Then it's time to put my faith where my mouth is, so to speak.  It's time to pray.  Past time.

I'm a little slow, Lord, please continue your patience with me.  You promised that, while your yoke is heavy, your burden is light.  Is that because I should count on you to do the heavy lifting?  Thank you for this opportunity to serve you with the gifts you've given me.  Help me to lead as you would have me lead so that everything I do in your name be for your glory.


I feel lighter already.  Now, let's get to work!


End Risk


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Five Minute Friday: See

Around here we join Gypsy Mama and write for five minutes on Fridays--unedited, uninhibited, unvarnished.  Here's today's entry:

See.

Five Minute Friday: Opportunity

Around here we quick-write for five minutes on Fridays--unedited, uninhibited, unpolished:

Opportunity?

Gulp.

It's been such a busy week that I had not really had time to think about the opportunity that has dropped in my lap.

I wanted it.  I asked for it.  Now I am terrified because of it.

I am terrified that I will not live up to my expectations for the task.  I am terrified that I will not live up to anyone else's expectations for the task.

I am worried sick about it--worried enough to pray about it.

Oh, yes.  That is where I should have started.

Pray.

Lead me, Lord, in Your Name.

Direct me, Lord, that whatever I do be to Your Glory.

Humble me, Lord--well, I am quaking in my proverbial boots; job accomplished.

Teach me, Lord, what You would have me learn from this opportunity and to do this opportunity.

Thank you, Lord, for this opportunity.  May I glorify You so that those affected by my actions may be drawn closer to you.

Grant me peace, Lord.

Grant me joy, Lord.

Grant me wisdom, Lord, that everything I do be

In Your Name and for Your Glory.

Thank you, Lord.

Five Minute Friday: Perspective

Around here we play along with Gypsy Mama's Five Minute Friday meme and write for five minutes--unedited.  Today's topic is perspective, so here we go:

Perspective

I've always been encouraged to see things from a different perspective:  walk a mile in the other person's shoes, see things the way God sees them.

But, mostly, I seem to wander around in an idiocentric myopia--so focused on my beloved goals and "things I need to do" that I forget to take care of the people around me.

I'm more faithful to "feeding" my blogs that to feeding my husband.  In my defense, however, he's a better cook than I am.

I'd rather read one hundred pages than hear a human voice speak one hundred words.

I'd rather trade one hundred emails than have one hundred conversations.

Hm.  Light bulb moment.

I keep people at arm's length.  I don't like synchronous communication.

Why?

Control?  Certainly.  I can wait to respond until I've formulated a proper-to-me response.

Fear?  Yup.  What if I do or say something mortifying?

Excuses?  Oh, yeah.  I'm positively swimming in them.

Remedy?


Feet.  Face.  Ears.

Go to people I love.  Face them; be present in the moment with them.  Listen to them.

That's more terrifying than anything I can imagine.

Do it anyway.

The birds may have a great view from the sky, but it's only a view.  To accomplish anything, they have to come back to earth.

Do it.

Do.  It.

Today.

Five Minute Friday: Identity

Around here we write for five minutes on Friday--unedited, unplanned.  Here's today's effort:



Who am I?

I am a mother, a sister, a wife, a disciple, a writer, a teacher, a singer--

But each of those is an action, something I do to "earn" membership in that category.

Who am I?

I am lazy; I am an overachiever on the things I enjoy.

I am easily dissuaded when obstacles crop up, but I can be determined when I think something's important.

I am solitary in a crowded world.

And I really like it.

Inside my head, it's quiet and peaceful, most of the time, while the world bangs and clangs along without really getting anywhere.

I am tired.

I am worn.

I am hopeful.

I am planning for tomorrow, next week, and next year.

I am.

Me.


See more Five Minute Friday musings at TheGypsyMama:

Five Minute Friday: Real

Around here we free-write for five minutes on Friday.  Here's the unvarnished result:

Real.

As in reality.

As in the stuff that happens every day.

As in the concrete block that weighs down my dreams either sending them crashing to the ground, or preventing them from floating out into the exosphere for sheer lack of planning.

Reality can be so disheartening, so concrete, so real.

Reality can be so grounding, so concrete, so real.

The possibilities of life are myriad, swirling, dizzying midway lights from the merry-go-round on a balmy spring evening.

Reality is the stuff that happens every day.

Make it purposeful.

Make it

Real.

Read other musings about real over at Gypsy Mama's:

Five Minute Friday: Community

Around here we write for five minutes on Friday--unedited, unvarnished.  Here is today's edition:






Community.


The state of communing together.


The situation of living in a sharing environment.


So, community is not a what, but a who.  A community is a group of sharing people.  But to share, they each have to have something their fellows need.  What do I have that others need?


I have information--lots of it.  I'm a veritable fountain, morass, bottomless pit of information, some of which is actually useful outside of game night or Jeopardy.


I have strategies.  After a lifetime, I've devised and adapted strategies for surviving every day in a fast-paced world.  I could share those.


I have musical talents.  They're more gifts than talents since I haven't officially worked with a coach in years.  I do share them, though, and the members of my community seem to enjoy them.


I have . . . what else?  I would have thought by this time I would have some wisdom, but, so far, I only feel like I have strategies.  So, what is wisdom?  


The Bible says, "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the holy is understanding."  (Proverbs 9:10 KJV)


Perhaps that's where community starts:  communing together in the Lord, and, together, growing in wisdom.

I stink at communing, Lord, but I'm working on it.

END

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Five Minute Friday: Together

Around here we write for five minutes on Friday; here's the unvarnished result:

Together.

To get her.

Twogether

Two-or-more gether.

Any way you slice it, it's something I'm not this morning.  My brain is a clump of fuzzy drier lint:  unproductive, just there.

At the same time, I feel scattered, like tufts of a dandelion in a blustering wind, bouncing on the grass, burst apart by a gust.

It's a good thing I'm not alone.

Together,

Two gather,

Two get her,

and she's whole again.



Happy Friday!

Nancy

Five Minute Friday: Good-Bye

Around here we write for five minutes on Friday.  Here's the latest!



God be with ye.

That's what good-bye really means.  It's a blessing usually bestowed upon parting:  since I cannot, God be with you.  It's almost like a parting hug.

And it should feel like a hug because He is with me.  All the time.  To the ends of the earth.  Even when I forget it.  Even when I stumble around trying to work things out on my own because I forget that God is with me.

I can be a real dolt sometimes.

Why do I try to work things out on my own?  Um, well, I'm stubborn and independent.

But why don't I just do what He wants?  Double ummmm, could it be because I keep forgetting to actually listen??????

Could be.

Probably is.

Certainly is.

I can be a real dolt sometimes.

Thank you for loving me anyway, Lord.

I'm listening now, I promise.



Check out other Five Minute Friday writings over at GypsyMama's!

Five Minute Friday: Gift

Around here we write for five minutes straight on Fridays--no editing, no pre-writing, just raw writing.  Today's theme is gift and here's the thought of the day:

What is a gift?  In the secular sense it is something received that is not earned.  The spiritual sense goes further:  that gift given, but not earned, must be shared.  It is the paradox of the loaves and the fishes--the more there were to feed, the more the meager lunch stretched.  It is a bedrock of the faithful walk.

To each is given spiritual gifts to be used, alone or in congress with others, to be His hands and feet in the world.  Over and over again He promises me that He will supply all of my need; what prevents me from fully sharing His gift?

Disturb me, Lord, when I hide Your light within me beneath the basket of busyness, business, fatigue, ignorance, and selfishness.  Prod me, Lord, to remove the basket to let Your light beam.  Lead me, Lord, to those dark places that will be my mission field to share Your gift to me, and your one true Gift.

FINIS

Don't forget to check out other Five Minute Friday writings over at

Five Minute Friday: Loud

On Fridays, we write along with our other Five Minute Friday wordsmith. Here's today's little offering:

For someone who like solitude, the word loud can be threatening. It intrudes upon the solitude; it drives away deep thought. It interrupts concentration. It is a preventer, a roadblock.

My mother, at times, used the word loud to describe visual things, too. A visual—fabric, picture, decorating scheme-- that was loud was colorful without regard to what matched. It was garish, and it fairly hummed with tension as well as harmony between colors. A loud visual always evoked emotion—either the strong desire to fix it, or the intense attraction to the life the colors created. It could not be ignored.

Maybe I should be loud more often.

Five Minute Friday: Brave

Brave? 

Sometimes brave is just putting one foot in front of the other--hoping and praying that things will be better with persistence. 

Sometimes brave is stepping out onto an unknown path.  What if it's rocky?  What if it's muddy and slows me down?  What if it's dim and hard to find?  What if?

But to be truly brave, I have to turn my face into the wind, into that which terrifies me, into that which pushes me back.  Like an airplane which takes advantage of the velocity of the oncoming wind to create lift, I must see the challenge as a means by which I can fly.

And so I turn my face into the wind.

Five Minute Friday: Empty

I'm tired of feeling bad about feeling empty. I'm developing a new attitude about it. Instead of seeing “empty” as the end of something, I resolve to see it as the beginning of something: a state of portent, of hope. And so I must set about filling the emptiness.

Shall I fill it with cheap trinkets, kitschy, flashy, and, in the end, shallow? I hope not, although that is certainly the easier path.

I would like to fill it slowly, with carefully selected, worthy treasures: things that feed my happiness, my intellect, my soul. Yes. Ah, yes. So how?

It is the quest of a lifetime.

Here I go.

Five Minute Friday: Ache

An ache, dull and persistent and unrelenting, thrums in my brain.  An ache that throbs away in the background of my days like a heartbeat.  An ache to which I am becoming too accustomed, too complacent.  This ache is not from excess but from absence, like the phantom pain of a missing limb.  They are gone; the words are gone, and I fear they will not return.

For more on the Five Minute Friday topic ACHE, visit thegypsymomma!

Five Minute Friday-- Grit

Isn't it interesting how the thing that wears things down—sand, grit-- is an essential element in holding things together? When coarse, it can scour away great amounts, leaving ruts and scars and pits. But, as the grit becomes finer, those ruts smooth out, those scars fade, until, at its finest, grit polishes what was once dull and rough into some smooth, with a fine sheen. But the grit cannot effect this change on its own. It requires application—the tool of grit must be applied to an object with the appropriate amount of pressure, before, finally, painfully, that sheen gloriously appears.

Wow, rough, rough, rough.  It needs a little grit applied to it, doesn't it?  This is my little contribution to the Five Minute Friday meme.