I’m doing this 5 minute writing challenge late. Again. Super late. A Five Minute Friday challenge on a Tuesday. Not any real good reason for this except for that this weekend was crazy and I needed some time to think. And cook. And make a mess in the kitchen while baking cakes and cooking dinner. And then make myself do the Herculean effort of cleaning it all up.
And that only took since Friday.
So, since I’m now in the proper head space and not underneath a pile of dishes any more, I finally have a moment to write. Which I am thankful for. Writing heals me in ways that the dishes and laundry do not.
But that’s another post for another time.
So, a reminder in case you’ve missed it, this is the Friday Five Minute writing challenge, just in case, you know, you want to play sometime too-
This is a weekly writing “game” from my bloggy friend Lisa-Jo Baker, who blogs (and writes heart-breakingly, beautiful words and stories) at http://lisajobaker.com/
So, here’s the challenge, should you accept it: you write for 5 minutes with freedom like you have no fear or shame. And then you have to be brave (or pretend to be) and link up to her blog. Encouraging the writer who links up before you is part of the deal, too. This last rule is crucial, as we all need to encourage others. Why encourage another writer? Because at one point or another in our lives, we all need encouraging too. And a big PS if you aren’t a believer yet: this little 5 minute challenge has matured and developed my writing like nothing else has. Thank you Lisa-Jo!
Each week is a new word, a new thought starter, and you have 5 minutes to write….and are you ready? go-
I want to stay some days, in the moments that I hope live forever in my memory. I want to stay in the folds of her skin, the plush baby wrist rolls that I hope never stretch out, fade away as it means I can’t hold her in my lap like once before.
I want to stay, in the fleeting minutes with the warm sunshine rising on my grass, glazing the landscape and the window and the wall inside with golden light I accustom to God, to what heaven must be like; stillness and gold and God.
I want to stay, in the overly loud cheering section for some football team I don’t know anything about except that the team colors clash. I want to stay, in the beast of burden and beauty that is family, that is warmth and overwhelming emotions and double-parked cars on a driveway on a Thursday afternoon.
I want to stay, all day, all life long in these moments.
But I again have to remember that this place is not my home, this earth not my final destination. But those moments give me glimpse and hope, full of wildly expectant ideas that heaven is overflowing with these places that I cannot stay but long to.