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.