Five Minute Friday – Home

I’m doing this 5 minute writing challenge again..and late. About a week late, this one is.

Same old song and dance, just sort of new move in the dance each week.  And this one, in my opinion, is not my best writing not my best dance moves, but it’s the practice of it all that makes me come back for more each time. More practice, more hope at getting to be a better writer.  So hence this, only about a week late.

And a reminder in case you’ve missed it, this is the Friday Five Minute writing challenge, and the details are below in case  you want to play sometime…

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 at least 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.

Each week is a new word, a new thought starter, and you have 5 minutes to write….and are you ready? go-

Home

thanks to Witthaya Phonsawat for the image.
thanks to Witthaya Phonsawat for the image.

Home is the place you come back to, time after time, in a place and in your soul.

It’s the place, the one place you finally exhale for the day, leave the bags at the door all askew and messy and whisper a silent thank you to God for, a retreat, a place away, a literal and figurative closed-door on the other sometimes loud and rude pieces of the day.

Home is comforting, loving, trying.  Just like family.  It’s the place you run to, the place you run away from, the odd place you just want to be, even if that means trying to figure out the logic of a toddler, and how she’s determined that in fact, her doll’s own home is not in her room or the doll’s bed but indeed in the drawer, laying cozy with the shorts.

Home is at once a place of rest and peace, and a place where our soul is on fire; a place of endless frustration and in dire need of organization, and yet one where all of life uncoordinated rhythms and mistakes are loved, welcomed, and of course, at home.

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