Five Minute Friday: Laundry

18
Oct

How could I NOT do Five Minute Friday with a word prompt of “laundry”? I have deep and abiding opinions about laundry, about the amount of laundry, the merits of wrinkle-free materials and the smelly allergy-triggers of strongly scented detergent.

When I saw the prompt, I knew I’d be doing Five Minute Friday this week. In case you’re not familiar with it, Five Minute Friday is a fun linkup with Lisa-jo Baker. She puts up a word prompt each week and the instructions are to just go for it. Don’t edit. Don’t get locked up. Don’t over-think it, just have fun and write whatever comes to mind in five minutes. Then linkup your post with others on her site: http://lisajobaker.com It is open to anyone who wants to participate. Maybe you want to try it out?

Ready?

Set?

Go!

“A little lifting up of the heart suffices; a little remembrance of God, an interior act of adoration, even though made on the march and with sword in hand, are prayers which, short though they may be, are nevertheless very pleasing to God, and far from making a soldier lose his courage on the most dangerous occasions, bolster it. Let him then think of God as much as possible so that he will gradually become accustomed to this little but holy exercise; no one will notice it and nothing is easier than to repeat often during the day these little acts of interior adoration.”

― Brother Lawrence, The Practice of the Presence of God

For many years now, laundry has been a frequent chore, a nearly every day occurance.

I don’t love laundry.

But I now longer hate it.

Many years ago I tried to shift my attitude about laundry.

My husband needed clean socks, and had none because I hadn’t done the laundry.

“Wash your own darn socks,” I thought.

We had already established a sharing of household chores and laundry fell to me. It wasn’t that he was incapable or unwilling to wash his own socks. We had agreed that I would do it.

In that period, I came to realize how nice it was for him to go to his drawer as he prepared for his day, and find clean socks.

Rainbow striped toe socks worn with thong sandals (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A little thing, really.

But the reason behind the socks changed,

because I changed.

I started viewing the laundry as an unspoken act of love.

I washed the socks, dried, folded and put away the socks because I love my husband.

Socks are my little love note left in his drawer every day.

The change came when I started to think of every little thing I did as being significant and tried “doing it all as unto the Lord” like the Bible suggests. Brother Lawrence also helped. Maybe worshipping God isn’t as hard as we try to make it.

“He does not ask much of us, merely a thought of Him from time to time, a little act of adoration, sometimes to ask for His grace, sometimes to offer Him your sufferings, at other times to thank Him for the graces, past and present, He has bestowed on you, in the midst of your troubles to take solace in Him as often as you can. Lift up your heart to Him during your meals and in company; the least little remembrance will always be the most pleasing to Him. One need not cry out very loudly; He is nearer to us than we think.”
― Brother Lawrence, The Practice of the Presence of God

STOP.

Your comments and suggestions are always welcome — I think that by sharing, we can help each other along in our journeys. How can you be aware of God’s presence as you go about the seemingly mundane things on your to-do list today? Is being aware of God’s presence something that comes naturally to you or does it take work? I hope you have an extra awareness of Him walking alongside you as you go about your day.

Five Minute Friday: Ordinary

11
Oct

Do I tell myself there’s nothing wrong with ordinary because I am ordinary?

Is there anything wrong with being similar to others?

Do we all fancy ourselves special when in reality there are just varying degrees of ordinary?

I’d argue there’s no such thing as an ordinary person when meant to mean uninteresting or unimportant, not once you start looking beneath the surface.

***

http://mrg.bz/VcVFC1

I crouch against the hard surface above me and feel its resistance curve along my spine.

My head ducked, I could roll forward if there was any room. There’s not. There’s no room for living like this. I can no longer tolerate it.

I push with my legs, strain against the wall of separation, willing it to give way, but it’s reinforced by years.

My legs shake with effort, sweat slicks my back, my hands brace on my knees to aid the attempt.

When I think I can push no more,

Slowly, slowly, I feel one layer, then two, slip aside like shale sheering off above me.

Still I press, muscles growing shaky, weary from so much time.

Now I sense the ceiling yielding to my effort; legs extend one small inch more, one inch more,

Until finally I feel coolness, movement, space where once there was solid wall.

More effort, more time, until there is room for all of me to slip through the opening.

I unfurl, blink in the bright light, stretch wide in the freedom around me.

My emergence into my place in the world is more significant because it is collective, because we all must do it.

My achievement is not ordinary because it is in common with others.

It is monumental.

We are all miracles.

***

Whoa, I don’t know where that came from. This is a crazy Five Minute Friday attempt, so thanks for giving me the freedom to try something totally different today. You can be a part of Five Minute Friday too. Just head over to http://lisajobaker.com and you’ll find all the details, along with a bunch of fantastic posts and supportive community. Thanks for reading today!

I Want to Tell the Truth (but can I tell it slant?)

27
Sep

Taken from Selby Av side; 2006. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I want to be fearless and brave and bold.

I’m also a chicken.

I want to be true and tell you all the things I think about

women

church

God

relationships

loving others

living boldly

being free to be passionate and alive

But I’m also afraid I’ll hurt someone’s feelings,

That I’ll say something wrong,

That I’ll reflect badly on the people closest to me, even though my issues are my issues and I own that.

Let’s start with this:

My dad’s career was as a pastor. That shapes you a lot.

I’m also from Minnesota, a firstborn people-pleaser who has always played the role of mediator and peacekeeper.

That’s a two-fer, almost a trifecta.

I am way more steeped in evangelicalism than I ever realized as I was growing up.

I am also way more uncomfortable with it than I was growing up. Quite uncomfortable, actually.

That’s not easy to admit, because I understand the deep deep ties it creates, how someone’s entire world can be shaped by their evangelical worldview. To question that can appear as a crisis of faith.

Maybe it is.

It sure feels unsettling.

I also think there is room in my relationship with God for a wrestle-fest (“relationship with God” = evangelicalism <— see how that sneaks into stuff?).

There’s room for questions and ponderings and convictions and flying leaps from the top rope, cape flapping behind. I feel the wind rush past my face as I fly through the air, hoping to tackle God and wrastle Him to the mat so I can get some straight answers.

For now there’s only the whistling of the wind as I jump.

*****

This has become a habit around here. Every Friday I try to link up with Lisa-jo Baker’s Five Minute Friday. She offers a word prompt, people write for five minutes flat, then link their posts to her site, and the virtual potluck begins. It is open to anyone who wants to be a part of it. Here’s the link: http://lisajobaker.com Check it out!

Five Minute Friday: She

20
Sep

Photo from Morguefiles

“I don’t know what to do,” she said.

She’d only been home five minutes before the inner tension was too much and she had to talk to Mom about it.

“What do you want to do?” Mom asked.

“Everything,” she answered. “I want to leave, I want to stay, I want to scream, cry, break stuff and roll into a ball.”

“Which of those sound best right now?”

“Break stuff,” she grinned through her tears. “I won’t though. I have too much self-restraint.”

“Yes, that’s what you’re known for, self-restraint,” Mom said.

“Actually, the only thing that sounds good right now is something to eat. Do you have anything?”

Mom scoffed. “Do I have anything? Baby, sit down. I’ll take care of you.”

“Thanks.”

She pulled out a stool and sat while Mom rummaged through the fridge, proclaiming all her finds as she pulled them out.

She felt her eyes well up with tears, and she tried to sniff them back.

“Mom,” she began.

Mom kept her head in the fridge but said, “Hmm?”

“How can I feel strong and weak, confident and scared, bitter and generous all at the same time? I think I might be losing it.”

Mom emerged with a container of Cool-Whip in one hand and a container of strawberries in the other.

“No honey, you’re just being you. We’re all that way.”

****

This is my attempt at a fiction version of Five Minute Friday, though I definitely didn’t get many words down in that amount of time. *sigh* That’s okay. For those who don’t know, Five Minute Friday is a linkup with Lisa-jo Baker and it is lots of fun. Check out all the details on her site: http://lisa-jobaker.com I’d love to find your contribution (if you’re here with FMF), so please leave a link in the comment section below! And as always, thank you sincerely for visiting today.

Five Minute Friday: Red

6
Sep

Timer set for five minutes. Ready. Set. GO.

I lost my crockpot.

Don’t ask me how.

If I could retrace my steps and figure out how I lost it, I’d be able to find it.

And I can’t.

It’s not like a chapstick or a pencil. You don’t have another one laying around in the bottom of a drawer someplace. It’s definitely not a huge deal, but when you’ve started using one, you find it is a nice option to have.

So when I took my son to his friend’s house, I told the funny story of not being able to find it. “Who loses a crockpot?!” I joked.

The mom said, “Do you want one of mine?”

Huh??

She told me she had an extra one she never uses, an inexpensive one she picked up somewhere along the way, one she didn’t need.

My pride department wanted to keep me from taking it. But my time management department told me I could really use it. And she was being generous, offering me a gift. She wouldn’t offer if she didn’t want to.

So I took the crockpot, almost accidentally broke it on the way out the door. and now my family can have shredded pork tacos again. But the takeaway is that I almost missed out on the chance to be part of this new friend’s story of generosity. My pride almost kept me from allowing her to help me. And how often, especially as moms, do we choose to tough it out because we don’t want to admit we need help?

STOP

******

Like most Fridays, this post is part of a linkup with Lisa-jo Baker’s Five Minute Fridays. You write for five minutes flat, then linkup your post on her website: http://lisajobaker.com . Check it out for more details, but if you’re interested in finding other writers to connect with, Five Minute Fridays is a great way to do so.

Can I ask you to consider subscribing to this blog? You can click the little link on the bar over there —-> and any new posts will be delivered to your inbox. No pressure, but it would be a sure way to keep up on all the action (snort chuckle). Thanks for coming by today, and I hope you have a great weekend!

Five Minute Friday: Worship

30
Aug

English: An old Methodist church, a week after its last worship service, in Ceylon, Minnesota. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I haven’t been to a show in a few years. But when I’ve gone I’ve been surprised at the similiarities between a good concert and some of the music portions of church services (Evangelical, Protestant bigger size church services to be more specific).

Smoke machine – check.

Light show – check.

High decibel level – check.

Well-trained, talented musicians – check.

Depending on the church you go to, people may or may not have their hands in the air, but at the shows I’ve been to, you can believe they do and there will be boisterous singing along, responding to the music and the promptings of the band.

There are times when emotions run high at concerts, so much so that tears stream down people’s faces, for a myriad of reasons. That’s been known to happen in a few services as well, although it is more seldom at my church.

We are in Minnesota, after all, and some emotions are better left unexpressed. Well, most emotions.

That’s a stereotype, but there are times when I get frustrated at church because it seems like we don’t feel free to engage the music or the worship leaders or the One we’re there to worship in the first place. But you put a bunch of Minnesotans at First Ave (a famous concert venue up here) and they’ll rip up the place with their enthusiasm.

Where’s that passion on Sunday morning?

Not everyone worships the same way. I get that. Music isn’t everyone’s “thing” and that’s okay. But when people remain stoic and unresponsive for the entire.worship.service. then they ought to be sitting in a board meeting for all the passion they’re showing.

Because worship isn’t only tied to music.

It is in fellowship.

It is in the message.

It is in serving.

And if people remain unmoved and unresponsive to all these facets of worship, they miss out on an opportunity to interact with a God who is active, moving, responsive and engaged.

What ways of worship come most naturally to you? Are you part of a church and if so, what kind of worshipping body is it? Finally, been to any good concerts lately?

****

This is part of a linkup with LIsa-jo Baker and her Five Minute Friday. We get the word prompt, set the timer, and write for five minute. No editing. No perfectionism. Just write for the sheer joy and fun or writing. Anyone is invited so join in any time. Here’s her site: http://lisajobaker.com

Five Minute Friday: Small

16
Aug

She’s just so small.

Her hands still have their toddler pudge.

She says “grateful” when she means “great” but I think the two belong together so I never correct her.

She is quick to share, first to offer encouragement, she’s her brothers’ biggest fan.

She tries to do cartwheels and only gets partially upside-down, as if she’s mostly flinging her legs sideways over a puddle, but when she stands afterwards, she glows with pride.

She comes out of her room wearing her pink stripped slippers and filmy robe with the elastic that’s too tight around her forearms where the sleeves land since she’s outgrowing it but can’t let it go.

Can’t let it go.

How can I let her go, even for those few hours every.single.day. ?

She’s my sidekick.

My shadow.

My sweetie.

She’s too small to be so big.

But she’s ready. I know this. I’ve seen her. But letting her go feels like feeding her to the bears,

bears of cliques,

bears of rejection,

bears of politics in friendships,

and there are far worse bears in those woods that I don’t dare speak aloud.

I don’t send her alone, and I know this. Jesus walks alongside her. She knows this too.

But when that bus pulls away from our house on her first day of school, you’d better believe I’ll peal out of our driveway in the minivan, close on her heels, waving to her like a fool.

***

Before I forget, yesterdays post contained my first giveaway so if you want to win a beautiful scarf from Trades of Hope, be sure to check that out. Today’s post is part of a linkup with Lisa-jo Baker (http://lisajobaker.com ) and is open to anybody who wants to participate. Five Minute Fridays are a lot of fun, so if writing and finding other good blogs is your thing, be sure to look her up.

As always, thanks so much for taking the time to come by today. I know there are a lot of other things vying for your time, and I appreciate you!

Five Minute Friday: Story

2
Aug

You might have noticed that on Fridays I have started to link up with Lisa-jo Baker (lisajobaker.com) pretty consistently. She hosts a Five Minute Friday blog prompt and it has been a great way to connect with others (online) around the country. It is easy to feel like you’re operating in a vacuum when your little blog gets few comments, and when blogging is something you quietly plug away at with the hopes it will matter someday. Five Minute Friday is one way I’ve found to connect with others who are also exploring this blogging thing in various ways, and if you are at all interested in finding encouragement and really great people, I suggest you check it out.

Here’s how it works. Check her site for the word prompt. Start your timer. Write for five minutes and five minutes only. Don’t worry about it all making sense or being perfect. This is an exercise whose goal is to release you from all that doubt. Write for the fun of it. Now link it up so we can all benefit from your unedited brilliance.

Today’s prompt: Story.

Ready.

Set.

Go.

***

I can’t think of this word without Donald Miller’s book jumping into my head. Love him or hate him (or somewhere in between) he wrote a compelling book about story, and about changing your life’s story, Million Miles in A Thousand Years.

It informs the way I talk about family with my children.

See, as a kid it never dawned on me that I had a contribution to make to the ethos of my family. All my parent’s lines of “He’s your brother so he’s your best friend” fell on mostly deaf ears. I focused only on myself and on how I could relate to people outside my household, and didn’t pay much attention to how I related to my younger siblings (I’m oldest of four kids). Mostly they annoyed me and I tolerated them with the aggrieved air of my teenaged angst.

When my husband and I talk about family with our three kids today, we talk about creating the kind of family you want. We talk about their role as co-creators. We talk about all members having an important role to play. We talk about how one person doesn’t get to decide for the whole family what that family is going to be like.

They have a voice.

And because they have a voice, that gives them some power. Their input is valued.

Is this family a democracy?

Heck no.

It’s a dictatorship, with my husband and I as benevolent tyrants.

But we listen.

And we explain.

And we encourage.

And we try again.

Our family is not a set in stone family, one that has rules and traditions that must.not.be.broken. We try stuff, we let it go, we forget, we pick it up again if it worked, if it didn’t, we cast it aside and let it roll under the couch along with the other rogue Legos, single socks and tumbleweeds. But we all have a role to play. The story that is our family will be shared by my husband and I as well as Rex, Bobo and Princess Teacup. Maybe not equally shared yet, but shared and co-created alongside our Creator.

***

STOP.

What was your role in your family growing up? What kind of story you are creating with your life every day? What is one way today you could create the life-story you desire?

Five Minute Friday: Broken

26
Jul

It seems that I’ve gotten into a habit. For the past few Fridays I’ve linked up with Lisa-jo Baker who gives a word prompt on her website (http://lisajobaker.com). You write for five minutes and don’t worry it being perfect, then you link up to her site. It’s a lot of fun, and apparently I’m hooked!

****

At our house a lot of things get broken. Lego creations are notorious breakers. Certain pop-bead necklaces break with one little yank. We pretend our bokes break so we can bring them to the Fix-it Shop (usually me with a screw driver in hand) and get them fixed up. These are things I can handle, even if I’m not good at taking time to glue on tiny toy hands that have popped off in a particularly violent battle.

I’m not sure how I’ll handle broken hearts.

I know they’ll come, but I don’t know how to watch my children suffer.

When I was around the age my oldest child is now, I had a hard year at school. I was shunned and I never found out why. There may not even have been a reason why.

What I knew what that those who had been my closest friends suddenly weren’t anymore.

More than that, they actively were un-friends.

They drew mean pictures of me.

They gave me a mean nickname.

They put their desks together in a group and left me as a deserted island.

I’m thankful that I had one friend who remained, even when all others turned away.

Maybe that’s what I can pray for my kids when they face their own heartbreak — that they’ll each have one person who they can turn to (not counting their dad and me). That one person can make it bearable.

STOP

****

Did you have a childhood friend who stuck by you? Have you gotten over your big childhood heartbreaks and if so, how?

Five Minute Friday: Belong

19
Jul

Source: Instagram: writermama1999

My baby girl starts kindergarten this fall.

It’s crazy, loco, kookoo, , nuts-o, cray-cray.

She is totally ready and excited about it. She’s going to be in the new elementary building, which is a big deal around here.

She will have two big brothers to look out for her when she rides the bus…

or will she?

My husband and I have always told the kids we’re a team, that each person in our family is important, and that we need to look out for each other.

Will any of that come into play when they’re out on their own?

Will they create a bond, independent of us?

Will her big brothers include her, and not begrudgingly?

I want her to have a sense of belonging, of being a valued part of something important.

I want her to be comfortable in herself.

I know this is a big year for her, and I want her to have the security of belonging, but without compromising or changing herself to make it happen.

And it is even more important to me that she feels that she belongs in our family. We should be that safe place, that welcoming, warm, guard-down kind of place where she can be grumpy, scared, sad or goofy without fear of mocking or rejection.

Our home is supposed to be an accepting place for others — we’ve talked about how to be a good host.

My hope is that we’ve translated that into being accepting of our own family as well.

crafts (Photo credit: Margarida Sardo)

???? What kind of atmosphere are you cultivating in your home? What made you feel like you belonged when you were a child? ????

****

This Five Minute Friday thing has become a habit around here. It’s a lot of fun and you can be a part of it too. Check out all the details at http://lisajobaker.com . If you’re visiting because of FMF(or if you just happened to show up and it’s Friday), hello and thanks for coming by today!