Five Minute Friday: Paint

(I participate with a group of writers in a weekly “Five Minute Friday” writing exercise. In response to a word prompt, each writer sits down for five minutes for “no extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.” This is also described as a sort of writing flash mob and a great form of “free therapy”)

Five Minute Friday: Paint


I grew up in parsonages. As a PK (Preacher’s Kid), I lived – all told – in six different parsonages before graduating high school and heading off to college.

Each time we moved, we adjusted to living in a new town, meeting new friends, becoming part of a new church family, and – after reaching school age – getting used to an all new school.

And each time we moved into a new-to-us home.

In some ways it was a challenge.

But it was also a gift.

My sisters and I learned to adapt to new circumstances and “go with the flow.”

One parsonage stands out in my mind because of the paint in the bedrooms.

The family that lived there before us had just had them repainted.

Repainted in VERY vibrant colors.

And because the rooms had just been repainted, there was no way we were going to ask the church to paint them again.

So we learned to adapt.

One room had deeply-dark blue walls and green shag carpet.

One room had pink walls and red curtains.

Another had neon lime green walls and blue curtains.

As it turns out, that last room was the smallest of the three…and my favorite.

It was tiny, but its two small square-ish windows were placed along the corner of the room. It made me feel like I was in the catbird’s seat, looking out over the neighborhood.

It also had the door that led up to the attic and a little unfinished crawl space.

I can guarantee those paint colors are not the ones we would have chosen…but as time has passed, it turns out they have made for some colorful memories.


Moving van in front of parsonage


2 thoughts on “Five Minute Friday: Paint

  1. What a nice thing to share! It is so true that some of the things we don’t choose (and would even prefer were different) end up being the being our “most colorful memories.” Thanks for the reminder.

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