We were gathered in a circle. Unsure of what to do or say next.
Her body shook with silent sobs…we reached out our hands to her shoulder but sat in silence. We were lost. We hadn’t encountered this before.
Perhaps even a hand on the shoulder was presumptious since we hardly knew one another.
She lifted her shaking hands and softly spoke. Words of anguish poured out. She spoke bluntly and without censor. She laid ger heart bare.
We knew the words were not for us. They stretched beyond and amongst us, to the One both above and in our midst.
She shared the depths of her heart. The truth of her feelings. She knew it would not be too much for him. This rough and raw offering.
We with our tidy words and formulaic prayers have much to learn. He seeks our hearts, He seeks US. Are we brave enough, do we trust enough to share ourselves. Even after we realize we are already known deeper than we could ever imagine.
Image: Unsplash – Nathan Dumlao
#FMF – COMPLETE
I am really bad at completing books. One reason may be the number of books that I have on the go at one time.
I was always so adament that I would not go digital and instead would read only hardcopies of books.
But then I discovered low priced books on Kindle AND that I can download sample chapters which is kind of like adding to my TBR pile (which on Goodreads is over 1,000 but thats a story for another day.)
It is not that I don’t like finishing books, I do. It brings a sense of completion. However, there have been some books that were just so good that I made myself go slowly or put them aside because I did not want them to end.
I read a tremendous amount of non-fiction, with memoir like bents to what is being shared. And I am fond of a good book to interact with. I read a book by Chomsky once and had questions & statements written all over the pages, words circled, phrases highlighted, like having a conversation on the page.
I am trying to go back and read through books that I have begun and then been distracted from. It does my heart good to add a completed book to my Read in 2018 list.
Image: Unsplash – Priscilla de Preez, edited with Canva
Joining up with my Five Minute Friday friends where we write for 5 minutes on a one word prompt and then see what others are inspired to write.
I woke up this morning to see that these words had been written during our #fmfparty Twitter party last night:
“You belong here. Your words matter. Pull up a chair and stay at the table” (thanks to @mlsgregg)
This is an idea that resonates with me.
I am not fond of crowds. If I happen to be in a large group of people I will usually gravitate to one or two people and linger with them for the remainder of the time.
Crowds make me feel lost, alone, overwhelmed. I look for someone to spend time with because I need a mooring. I also much prefer one on one interaction.
The idea of being invited to the table resonates with me because it makes me feel seen, loved, known. In the midst of what swirls about this gathering at the table is a safe place.
My friends at the Five Minute Friday writing community are so good at making this a reality. In this community it seems the table is endless and the chairs are many. Sometimes this excess might seem to overwhelm, but its a comfort. Because all are welcome.
In highschool many young peopke would get together after evening service to hang out for a bit. I was often on the perifery because I didnt know where I belonged. One night a friend said to me “you don’t need an invitation, you are always invited” which didnt make me feel any better. I needed to be seen, known, asked. The crowd seemed so big, I didnt know my role, my acceptance, a level of comfort.
In the crowd there is always room at the table. There is a table in the midst of all the chaos. It might seem long and crowded but there IS a place for you. You are seen, known, heard and loved here.
Image: Unsplash – Daria Nepriakhina, edited in Canva
Joining with my dear friends at the Five Minute Friday community.
We write on a one word prompt for five minutes. Link up our posts and then read other’s takes on the same word. Its one of my favourite creative exercises.
He apologized for walking slower these days. He said “You could have gone so much faster without me.”
My response reasoned that in this particular instance there was no need for us to go faster. In fact, it would do us good to slow down and take in things every once in awhile.
I don’t know if I would have described our lives in previous years as rushed. I am sure that when I was growing up there were things we put on our parents plates that had themm rushing around. And I know that as I grew older and developed routines of my own, there were times when I found myself living rushed.
But these days life is lived at a slower pace out of necessity. And while it is a challenge, it is an opportunity for us to learn to see with different eyes and to realize life can be enjoyed even at a slower pace.
Our walks are getting shorter these days, as we mosie along a bit more.
Charlie has decided that as his days wane he will now take time to smell the roses.
And smell them he does.
I have never seen a dog bury their nose into blooms like Charlie does and then he’d close his eyes, if just for a moment.
As we continue on our journey his lopsided smirk speaks of a secret that he alone holds dear and yet his joy is contageous.
I admit. I have walked by each garden of flowers for days upon end. This is our normal route after all.
But did I see the flowers? Did I take a moment to truly ponder their intricacies? Did I stop and deeply drink of their scent or plunge my smaller human nose into their midst?
I come to an abrupt stop as I realize that I have come to the end of the leash.
I turn to see Charlie sitting placidly on the top step of a recessed garden to my right.
He is unmoving. He will stay where he pleases. And his eyes. They are sending me a message. I’m going too fast.
I am missing out.
He wants me to stop and see.
Since he has been around a couple years, he’s not sure how much longer he can wait to teach me to see the world around me and take it in. Today he has set his mind (and his stubborn muscled self) to sitting on this step until he is satisfied that I have at least for the moment grasped todays lesson.
We have walked together for 10 years of loyal friendship, a partnership not found between humans.
There is just something about him, that makes me want to see.
Image: Unsplash -Ken Treloar
Joining with my fellow writing pilgrims over at Five Minute Friday as we dive into a one word prompt for five minutes and see what is revealed.
So often I end messages with the phrase “You are loved”. I think that it is sometimes a reminder for me, but most of all in the midst of life I want to remind people that they ARE loved. By me many times, but more importantly, by Him.
Over the years I have had four words given to me by God. In the beginning I thought that they were words He wanted me to share with others. And I have tried to live my life by them. But recently my eyes have been opened to the fact that they are reminders to my heart as well.
My four words:
Seen. Heard. Known. Loved.
They are not easy words. In fact, for me at least, they are quite difficult. There is surrender here and in someone who grasps at the smallest bit of control I can find…it is hard to do.
But these words resonate deeply with my heart. Not only that He knows me these ways and more, but that I can in some small way extend these gifts into the lives of others.
The above sign was made in Haiti by a metal-smith who crafts art out of oildrums and other cast off metals. I knew that it would be a solid reminder for me of a truth I so often struggle to grasp
Joining up with my friends over at Five Minute Friday where we jump into writing for 5 minutes on a one word prompt. Come join one of my favourite communities!
The dress is still in its covering all these years later. It had just enough sequins to catch the light, and just a whisper of a strap. I wonder if any moths have gotten at it.
The invitations were so beautiful. A handpainted hydrenga set onto white cardstock with purple print. Closed with a purple ribbon which we spent an evening trying to figure out how to tie.
There were topiary trees and lanterns lining the aisles. Rough drawings of a dream world being brought to life. The types of flowers are vague in my mind now, but I know they dripped from all the surfaces with sumptuosness.
Engagement pictures taken on a rustic farm before a fierce rainstorm set upon us, the photographer regaling with tales of other shoots while his dogs huddled under the table.
Announcement from the pulpit with lots of congrats from people, some of who I had never spoken to previously. It seemed odd to have others share in our joy.
What happens when
You feel trapped
When you realize
That this isn’t
What you’ve dreamed of?
When money is lost.
Dreams are shattered
Hearts are broken
And two lives
Go in opposite directions
The anniversary approaches
And an ache remains
People say I am brave
I was brave
But thats not a word
I can make my mouth fit around
All these years.