5 Minute Friday ~ True

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True.

Really? That’s my immediate thought. How can I write about what’s true when I look around my life asking myself the same question. Just what is true?

All is quiet, my mind comes up empty. For I don’t see truth, only deception.

Hidden faces, hearts shielded in. We walk, we talk, we pretend through this very life we live. Saying the right things, doing the things and even trying… to be true.

All I can cling to, all I know to be true, is what is being revealed to me by my Creator God. He is true.

He is love. Holy. Kind. Peace. Joy. Mercy. Sacrifice. Forgiveness. Hope.

He is true.

The very things I try to “be,” He is. The very ways I yearn to serve. He is. The very ways I desire to praise. He is.

All else won’t stand, doesn’t hold up, won’t last, crumbles as He whispers.

He is true.

This post is part of Five Minute Friday’s, a five minute weekly reflection on a word prompt. No edits, no do overs, just write.  “No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.”

Words…

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Words.

Our words. Those small, little things which are so powerful. In a matter of moments we can build up or tear down. We can encourage the precious lives around us and build them up with words of hope. Or, like darts we throw at the hearts of those we love, we sharpen our tongues to spew out the darkest parts within us. With just one utterance, words effect our relationships and therefore our very lives.

Words.

We try to chose the right ones. Pull the dictionary off the shelf. We scramble to find the exact way to express what’s in our hearts. To form words and wrap them around thoughts and feelings rambling around within. How delicate the power of our words.

Deep down, we know that, don’t we?

Yet we find ourselves. Full of questions, of doubt and of pain. For we know things aren’t supposed to be this way, are they? The waves come crashing into your world, turning all you know into something unrecognizable. Here we are – facing another mountain to climb, another trial, another health crisis,  another broken relationship, another moment where we have the opportunity to choose.

Choose. Our words.

“Don’t let even one rotten word seep out of your mouths. Instead, offer only fresh words that build others up when they need it most. That way your good words will communicate grace to those who hear them.” Ephesians 4:29 (The Voice)

Our words can communicate grace.  Spoken offerings which flow into the recipients heart. Fresh words that build them up. The very words we speak and the way we speak them, usher grace into the recesses and dark crevices of the hearts of those we love.

How powerful are our words! Do we sometimes let rotten words seep out? Definitely. Choose to use your words for truth, for rebuilding, for filling – for grace. Those mountains will come, of that we have no doubt. When the feelings surge within you, brimming to the surface –

Choose your words.

5 Minute Friday ~ She

She wondered how it ever got this way. How did her life become nothing like she thought it might be? She chose to do the “right” things, or so she thought. She believed in God, she raised her kids in a Bible believing church, she stayed  faithful to her husband. She did the things that were supposed to bring happiness, joy, contentment. Peace.

She found herself, empty. Unfulfilled of joy, of emotion, of life. Somehow just muddling through when all along the purpose and meaning just seeped out of her life.

She was lost. Adrift. No longer who she was, or thought she was.

In these moments of loss, of grief and agony. She learned to feel, to cry, to be. Her life transformed from what she did, into who she was. She can’t even pinpoint it, yet she sees it so clearly now.

She lives. For probably the very first time, she lives! She moves from a place within her that no longer conforms to others expectations of her, or those she placed upon herself.

It’s Her God she desires, with all that she is.

She just is.

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This post is part of Five Minute Friday’s, a five minute weekly reflection on a word prompt. No edits, no do overs, just write.  “No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.”

The Wait

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The internal clock keeps ticking away.

Tick, tick, tick…

Their hands moving faster and faster. Or at least that is how it seems with each new day. This ever moving, constant rush for saving, preserving, honoring the most precious commodity we all have, time. Yet I sit and, I wait. No matter how much time I hope to collect so I might grab the moment, enjoy it’s walled in perception of peace and protection, I find I need to pause and wait.

Wait for peace. Wait for hope. Wait for healing.

I wait.

There are times I yearn to move forward and spring forth from the places where I am still. Sometimes the darkness closes in, as I wait. For one more doctor appointment, one more lab to be drawn, one more medication, one more appointment to attend to, one more relationship to heal, one more conversation to be had, one more bill to pay, one more family member to visit. One more…..something.

I find that the more my plate overflows, the taller the piles gather around the home and never mind the endless house work neglected!

Still, I wait.

Why?

For healing. Healing in a physical sense, definitely. Yet healing in an emotional and spiritual sense, even more so.

There is something humbling, while also agonizing, about waiting. Like holding back a bull ready to charge. Just as you think it’s ready to move and tackle it’s prey, you pull on the reigns that much harder to make it stop. It’s like this game you play with yourself. You want more, you desire to be free, yet there is something which calls you back, heeds your heart, slows your pace.

You yearn for something, you want more, you crave it. Yet, you are called to wait.

Wait.

This has been the mantra of my life. Just when I think I am read to leap and take this jump of faith, I plummet to the ground. Alas, to wait.

I’ve fully recovered from my surgery and perhaps my internal bleeding will be gone for good. I’ve already had a moment when symptoms started again and the battle in my mind began again. Not wanting to ignore things and circumstances, yet not wanting to over-react. Will there ever be a balance? I find, I must wait. Again. Stop and start. Push and pull. Constant tension, unanswered questions.

The wait.

I know in my waiting, I am not alone. My faith in my God assures me so. Where would I be without Him?

“Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5

This makes it worth the wait.

5 Minute Friday ~ Red

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Crimson. Dark and flowing.

From His brow it slows trickles down. Sometimes bright but often with interlaced with darker shades of red as it streaks across His face. His arms and legs, bound and nailed, bleed this same color. This dried up, caked on, flowing ~ red.

It’s what’s paid my price. It’s what sets me free. It’s what leads me on. It’s what brings me peace.

His precious blood.

It’s like a free flowing river that doesn’t stop. The tides rise high and low with seasons, yet it’s constant. Movement. Not gushing, a trickle is just enough to cleanse you. I might want to jump right in and be clean, with reckless abandon I fall in. Yet it’s the smallest of crevices that need to be reached, that come clean, in the slow moving, drip by drip, drops of blood….

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This post is part of Five Minute Friday’s, a five minute weekly reflection on a word prompt. No edits, no do overs, just write.  As Lisa writes, “No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.”

Reaching

Reaching

Reaching.

Upward, onward, forward and often, backward. This constant process of reaching, of moving and of trying. A never ceasing, unending, constant sense of chaos. Looking for answers to long asked questions. Ever searching.

Like the cattails that sway in the breeze and never sit still. Are our hearts as we search them in the midst of pain.

Pain.

I rarely talk about it. In fact I was reminded as I shared with a precious friend just this weekend how little I do talk and contemplate the turns in life that have come my way. It’s not that I haven’t let them mold me, challenge me, grow me. But, have I spoken to free myself from the fear? Have I spoken so that maybe someone else might gain strength? Have I spoken to find my own voice?

Have I spoken?

I live with daily pain, the kind that takes your breath away so immediately your chest feels like it’s caving in. It hurts to breathe. Yes, read that again. It hurts to breathe. The very thing we take for granted, that sustains our life, brings me pain. That’s the thing about pain. We surprise ourselves on what we can truly endure.

This can also bring me much fear. Not fear in the sense of I can’t catch my breath (although I’ve had a few of those moments), but fear in losing time. Once you have tasted the sweetness of the brevity of life, oh how you want to rewrite the story! I desperately yearn to be reaching.

For more.

Reaching inward, yes. Rearranging my daily activities, responsibilities and priorities so that I honor this life I was blessed with, again.

Reaching outward, yes. Seeking to build a holistic support system around me, calling out for help when I need it.

Reaching upward. To the God who allowed this all to happen in the first place? Not so much. It’s a constant tension to reach out. There’s a cycle of doubt which creeps in, fear takes over and I cave. Like the breathe caught in my chest, is the love I offer my God.

Painful.

Rather than look up, I look backward at what could have been, should have been, on what I had planned. The “if only’s” choke out and I gasp for air again. This time, not because of a clot in my lung, but a clot in the relationship I have with my Father.

I reach. I grasp. I struggle to see His face, to hold His Hand. As I reach out, I find it empty, soaked with tears of grief. Of moments put on hold, memories missed and time lost. There I am, reaching backward once again. I know this path.

What will it take until I learn to no longer look backwards?

Perhaps that’s the point of the pain in the first place.

To trust.

To embrace this clinging, breathing, calming, moment by moment life of rest. That’s where my Father is, waiting for me, in our relationship together. Calling me to come.

Be.

Then the breeze blows, the wind moves and I feel His touch again.

This time, I reach up.