Five Minute Friday: Table

A wooden table set with two coffee/tea mugs and a plate of banana bread slices. A chair along the far side.

(So, I’ve been participating in a “writers’ flash mob” of sorts called Five Minute Friday. In response to a one-word prompt, hundreds of writers sit down and write for five minutes flat. No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font or punctuation; unscripted and unedited. Here’s today’s edition…setting the timer….)

Five Minute Friday: Table

Go.

That issue we struggle with.

It’s on the table.

Open for discussion.

Let’s talk about it.

What do you think?

I hear you, but am not so sure.

I see it differently.

Maybe we should think about it awhile.

Mull over what each other has said.

Perhaps we should set it aside for now.

We can bring it up again later.

Consider it tabled.

Stop.

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Thanksgiving Haiku

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Photo album cover with the following haiku - Family days have ways of summoning emotions - pure joy and raw pain. Laugh with the living. Remember well those missing. Give thanks for loved ones.

God’s Grace

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The photo is of a paved trail blocked by a fallen tree branch. The text says, "'There but for the grace of God go I.' The phrase betrays the universal nature of God's grace. No one deserves or receives a larger helping of God's grace than another. God's grace is for all."

Five Minute Friday: Dwell

(So, I’ve been participating in a “writers’ flash mob” of sorts called Five Minute Friday. In response to a one-word prompt, hundreds of writers sit down and write for five minutes flat. No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font or punctuation; unscripted and unedited. Here’s today’s edition…setting the timer….)

Five Minute Friday: Dwell

Go.

Don’t dwell on it.

Don’t dwell on the evil in the world.

Don’t take up residence among the evil and the anger and the fear and the hate.

Don’t dwell on the darkness.

It’s so easy to put down roots in that country.

There are no quotas or barriers to entering and dwelling in evil.

All are welcome.

All are actively recruited every minute of every day.


Instead dwell on hope, on beauty, on compassion, on love.

Take up residence among the helpers and the forgivers and the comforters and the healers.

Dwell on the light.

There are no quotas or barriers to entering and dwelling in hope, either.

Here, too, all are welcome.

Here, too, all are actively recruited every minute of every day.

You have the power to choose.

Where will you dwell?

Stop.

Evening sun shines through the trees of a cemetery, highlighting multiple paths and casting shadows

 

One Egg Short

It hid on the shelf for we don’t know how many years.

Two? Three? More?

My husband recently pulled items from some shelves above our home office computer and discovered a lost Easter egg.

Apparently one of us or our son had hidden it there and then forgotten where we hid it.

As he picked it up and showed it to me I vaguely remembered an Easter when, after one of the repeated sessions of hiding and seeking the Easter eggs, we had come up one egg short.

We never found it (obviously) and eventually gave up looking.

At some point we forgot it was even missing.

An Easter egg – a symbol of hope, joy, new life, childhood innocence, artistry and fun.

I haven’t had the heart to throw it away.

It currently resides on our kitchen counter…near the tissue box, insurance company calendar and iPhone/iPad charge cords.

Yellow Easter egg on a kitchen counter - next to a tissue box, small calendar and charge cords. There is a cross along the back of the counter.

I noticed it this afternoon, in between checking social media and news outlets for updates on last night’s terrorist attacks in Paris.

The world feels like a pretty hopeless place today.

It’s overwhelming, frankly.

It’s as if the world is Humpty Dumpty and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t put it back together again.

Vicious evil invites fear, hate and revenge.

Fear, hate and revenge breed their own self-righteous vicious evil.

And so it goes.

Amid the angry and fearful calls for revenge and war, we know there is a better way.

Jesus came and told us there is a better way.

He even showed us.

The better way is to return love in the face of vicious evil.

The better way is to pray for those who persecute us.

But that way is hard and goes against our human nature.

We want revenge.

We want to fashion our own sense of safety by taking matters into our own hands.

We want blood for blood.

The lesson Jesus taught us about the better way is left on a dusty shelf, like a forgotten Easter egg…

…a forgotten symbol of hope and innocence…

…something we know is missing but gave up looking for.

The better way is still there…

…waiting for us to rediscover it and dust it off.

Five Minute Friday: Weary

A bunch of very ripe bananas

(So, I’ve been participating in a “writers’ flash mob” of sorts called Five Minute Friday. In response to a one-word prompt, hundreds of writers sit down and write for five minutes flat. No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font or punctuation; unscripted and unedited. Here’s today’s edition…setting the timer….)

Five Minute Friday: Weary

Go.

Yellowish-green to brownish-speckled…seemingly overnight.

The bananas on the counter…next to the toaster…overlooked until the telltale sweet smell demands attention…look tired.

Weary fruit.

But the weary bananas have the sweetest taste.

The weary bananas are ready to be baked into bread.

I know I should turn them into batter and load the batter into the oven.

But – honestly – I am also weary.

So, we’ll see.

Stop.

Five Minute Friday: Dance

A golden brown leaf at rest on a car windshield, surrounded by rain drops.

(So, I’ve been participating in a “writers’ flash mob” of sorts called Five Minute Friday. In response to a one-word prompt, hundreds of writers sit down and write for five minutes flat. No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font or punctuation; unscripted and unedited. Here’s today’s edition…setting the timer….)

Five Minute Friday: Dance

Go.

They twirled and swirled to the season’s music.

The leaf followed the wind’s lead…drifting then rising then dipping then fluttering.

The wind danced with many partners, but each had its own routine…its own big finish.

This leaf, though somewhat spent, leapt with a special energy soaked up from the spring rains and summer sun.

Its memory of birdsong and squirrel shenanigans made its way into the two-step and waltz of its descent.

The autumn rain arrived in time to applaud the dance and join the leaf at rest.

Stop.