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Showing posts from October, 2015

Five Minute Fridays #Bacon

Writing about one word for five minutes...
Five Minute Fridays

"Can we just have bacon?"  Green eyes glinting gold excitement over the possibility of a breakfast just that simple.
That's all they want.  Just bacon.
Then their's the discussion over floppy or crispy? And I'm a bit baffled by my sister and husband who team up on me and decry my love for crispy.  Actually extra crispy.  I am kind of stunned that they both side with floppy or chewy.  Whatever.
Bacon makes everything better.
It's because it is so very rich. It isn't lacking flavor. It deepens whatever dish it simmers in.
It's rough chopped and sprinkled on salads for the perfect flavor to make kale go down a bit more gracefully.  It dresses up potatoes, gives crunch to burgers, and is perfectly married with breakfast.
And sometimes it stands solo.  Like in the eyes of my kids who could just eat bacon for breakfast and be satisfied.

This summer bacon snapped and popped rounded drops of …

31 Days of Free Writes #Almost

Sometimes almost is a blanket.  It covers us in safety because things almost went horribly wrong, but didn't.  We stare ball faced and horrified at what could have gone wrong what almost did, but didn't.  We're gulping deep dregs of breath relieved that at the brink of almost we were saved.
I've almost lost a child or almost ruined my life.  Almost...
Sometimes almost though is more of a fist pump over our lives.   "We're almost there."  I speak into the din of a noisy car.  And then I speak it again and again.  Inquiring minds want to know down to minutes and seconds. It's a beacon for a bathroom break and fresh air in everlasting car rides. "I'm almost eight, right? It's almost my birthday."  Oldest girl begs the question.  She's pulling at the days and hoping that once dissected she's most definitely almost ready to flip numbers again.  I smile into gray green gold eyes, "Well almost.  But thankfully not yet."   …

31 Days of Free Writes #Whisper

Whispers are special.  They are formed within the heart and protected by the voice.  Sometimes like a special string of words that are specially packaged within the confines of a quiet voice hushed for emphasis of importance.  Emphasizing the importance of the message.  It's barely audible deliverance exhibiting the necessity to lean forward and concentrate on the meaning, the words whispered.   Sometimes whispers are sweet messages from a friend, lover, or our children.  Sometimes they are a marked warning from a mother leaning into the hair of her children and whispering a warning meant for their small ears only.  Sometimes they are lovely and sometimes they are painful and sometimes they are secrets.  But they are always personal.  The decibel of the voice denotes the importance of the message and the importance of the listener.   It's almost like the lack of volume amplifies the loudness of the message's meaning.  Funny. A lack of volume is what makes the message stand…

Five Minute Fridays #JOY

Five Minute Fridays


Three letters that sometimes seem as elusive as finding the beginning or end of the "O" tucked in the middle.
Joy is supposed to transcend circumstances.  It's something we chant to ourselves, remind ourselves, dangle in front of ourselves trying to convince ourselves it is within our grasp if we just look up, look on the bright side, or look away.
Sometimes joy is as natural to wear as our favorite shirt.  Life is beautiful and we know it.  We are so aware of it.  In this moment joy slides over us effortlessly.  And sometimes even here we could wear it we just fail to do so, distracted.  Missing it.
And yet many times joy is a fight.  It's hard. Circumstances leave us upturned on our heads, out of sorts, and anything but beautiful.
The right combination to access joy seems hard.  Like a souls' Rubik's cube.  We seem to be able to rotate some pieces into place, but the winning combination just doesn't seem to be tangible.  We …

31 Days of Free Writes #Wave

Four summers ago the first weekend in September marked one month.  One month lived out shaky and unsteady.  Just putting a few steps in front of the other and letting tears drip down faces or anger spill out at the sky.  "Why?"
I had watched my husband shake violently at the graveside of his twenty-six year old brother as he sat a few inches from the casket.
My usually stoic husband reached out for the casket as he passed by and I heard his voice crack as he called out his name.  One more time. I had never seen him stricken with grief.  That groan of emotion haunted me.   Those fifteen minutes spent under the funeral home's green awning the last minutes his family would ever be within arms length of this special brother.  A brother who had just slipped quietly out of this life beneath the green gold water of a river one steaming August day.  Bare chested and tan, jumping off the dock with friends.  Never to resurface again.
A lot of that week in August was just wakin…

31 Days of Free Writes #Honor

Tears fall fresh, rivulets over her freckles.  We are just having a normal day together.  We are running errands and I'm listening to her talk.  She's helping me get out diaper bags and chase kids.  It's Sarah girl and me doing life together as usual.  But it happens.  Out of nowhere the gaping hole in her heart is opened up...Again. 
Sarah girl has known a lot pain to be so young.  Watched her mama, the only parent who staid, who cared for her die a long, painful death culminating in the bedroom she now sleeps in.  The bedroom she wants to leave.  The house she wants to forget because the walls hold within them too many memories that serrate like knives.  
We are just talking bout school and jobs and dreams and once again her mama comes up.  
A few trips around the sun have escorted her on different adventures and to different places but the wound still hurts...

We dance around the issue sometimes.  Of what is really bothering her about it all.  We…

Five Minute Fridays #Green

Five Minute Fridays


Three sets of little girl feet travel fast through the grass.  Running inbetween tree clusters, running down leaf paved hills, and running around curving wood trails.  They peek out behind weathered birch bark and clutch cattails.  Every October I look forward to that Sunday afternoon cradled in-between two peaks with a jewel of brilliant blue pond in between.  It's a short walk really.  Just one lap around the rim of the oversized pond, but to them it's a hike.  And it takes us nearly an hour to wind our way through.  Because they have to stop and everything.  
I am trying to catch up to my fast walking dad and I glance up.  I see a canopy of yellow leaves freckled with crimson and with chocolate underbellies.  It smells of earth and autumn.  I think back to the lesson we did a month ago in school about photosynthesis and chlorophyl and trees.  
My girls and I crowd around a book and discuss the process of photosynthesis.  Did you know th…

31 Days of Free Writes #Patient


In that chapter that we thumb to, recite at weddings, remind ourselves of...that chapter about love don't you think its funny that we find the first quality of love is the fact that Love is patient?
Not courageous, noble, brave... no first of all we find that tucked into the heart of love is patience.
How often do we say to ourselves and joke to others, "I'm not a patient person."  or "I hate waiting."
So when we say this, when I spit these words out aren't I really saying I lack love? Because to be lacking in patience is to be lacking in depth when it comes to love.  I'm missing the mark right off...
Patience is so hard.
It's so much easier it seems to do things for someone rather than waiting on them...just waiting. Endless waiting.  Waiting for them to shape up, change, be ready, come back, reciprocate the love back, be with us, our relationship to move forward, or maybe just to please stop that annoying habit...
I think Patience is…

31 Days of Free Writes # Ready

Most of the time you aren't ready.  Doesn't it feel this way?
You rarely ever get that chance to square your hips and shoulders up, clutch the bat just so, and keep your eye on life's ball.  Stand ready for the pitch with your full attention.  Sometimes life finds you in an optimal ready position, but most of the time we seem unready, and ill prepared for what is aimed right at us.  We are scrambling to swing and hit a ball we never knew was coming.   We don't seem ready.  And sometimes we aren't ready simply because we haven't been faithful or maybe just because we are too weak.
However many times God's view of optimal timing is so different from ours.  I've thought a lot about this excerpt from The Hiding Place.  Corrie ten Boom is upset about the eminent death of those she loves in the German massacre of the Holocaust.  So many unknowns and really in a world of death and genocide and upturned uncertainty who would ever feel ready?  Do any of us ever…

Five Minute Fridays #Trust

Five Minute Fridays

Writing for five minutes about one word...Trust

A table of freshly graduated high schoolers sit around the dining room of a beach house at Holden Beach.  Plates are being passed, memories are being shared between the six of us who grew up beside each other and are now sharing one of our last meals together before we branch out on our own.  The question arises by a parent present as to where everyone will be heading off in August.  Which college?
I remember my dear Jenna.  The way she answered the question like usual.   A school she picked quite different from everyone else's.  Remote location, small school, and not a soul she knew who went there.  I remember one of the parents scoffing at her choice.  It wasn't practical, it wasn't typical,  she a salutatorian could't receive a full ride there..and really who had ever even heard of it.  Why was she wanting to spend four years in the corn field carpeted rural Indiana?
Fresh freckles peppered her fa…

31 Days of Free Writes #Purple

Purple is that color that reminds me of my mother.  Well, one of two colors.  Purple and yellow.
Yellow because she always looked her best in a rich shade of sunshine.  It matched her auburn tinged chestnut hair.  Back when she was my age and I first remember the way her hair was full, long, and oh so thick twisting its way down her back and curving around her face when she had big roller curled it on Sunday mornings.  She was so pretty...

Purple always reminds me of my mom because the second house we lived in had purple all over its palette. In the walls and in her gardens.
My mom knew a lot of abuse, pain, confusion, and really torment for most of her life.  She still wrestles with after effects and her own battle with mental illness, but something positive my mom always did for us was bring beauty into our lives.  She loved flowers.  She is at home in a garden, a lawn and garden store, a nursery. She can make anything grow.  She can buy all of the almost dead on their last leg pla…

31 Days of Free Writes # Capture


I let the words marble roll through my head.  "Capture..Capture.." I'm saying it and thinking of shutters snapping to capture moments in framed slices of life.  I'm saying Capture and thinking of a princess captured tight in a dungeon...
Capture...I stumble on..
Capture the Flag.  I say inside and smile.  Instantly I'm back in elementary school at field day thick soccer turf resting under my feet.
Kids fast running towards the safe zone, pony tails whipping behind little girl heads.
Boys chasing and almost catching, girls smiling wide when they escape.
The risk taker boy who always seems to make it through the thick of the kids letting people out of jail.
I'm ten again running as fast as my short legs can stride.  Muggy May humidity kissing soft curls around ear edges.  We are chasing hard, wildly after the boy clutching that red and white flag.  A group of us has formed and he is so close.  We run faster and faster across that seemingly endless…