Each Day a Gift

Joining the Five Minute Friday group, a free-write five minutes, stringing words into a collage of thoughts.




FALL

They say middle age is like the fall of life.

Spring, birth.
Summer, childhood.
Winter, old age.

That leaves an awful lot for fall.

Young adulthood, maturing, grasping life and eagerly exploring your path, finding your way.
Enjoying the fruits of your labors in home, children, family, grandchildren.

That's way beyond one season's capacities.
And too depressing if you are, like me, edging toward those "winter" days.

I prefer to think of each day as a span of the seasons.

The morning springs bright and fresh, eager with possibilities.

The day warms into the work and productivity of summer.

As the family gathers around the table for dinner, the day wanes, the light fades, the work is set aside (even though the washing machine may still be running and there are dishes in the sink). It is time to recollect, to regroup, to enjoy and appreciate all we have, together. Fall is about in-gathering, drawing close, creating a snug haven.

The night, dark and cool, settles over, bringing in the quiet and rest of winter.

Every day is a pilgrimage through the seasons, embracing the gift of life.

Imagine the Life

Five Minutes. Write, five minutes, the words smooth and flowing, the ideas, a discovery.

Today's topic: Imagine.

Imagine. Goals. Plans. Visualize. Dream. Dream Big. Vision.

I have a notebook. Pictures cut out, pasted in. Things I want to do, to have, a life I want to live, a goal to work toward. Looking forward, out there, in the someday. Fast forward to then, when life will be all I imagine.

But wait. Hit pause. Today. Now.

The bean sprouts in the garden, reaching for the sky. The piles on my desk telling me I am far from bored. The snoring from the bedroom, the son still cuddled up with his cat. The high cloud cover this morning, filtering the sunlight, coloring the fresh greens of spring. The ideas, the flow of thoughts as I read and write this morning. The smile, the touch as my husband says good-bye and heads off to work. Music to play, to hear. Plans for the weekend, the garden tour, time to sit out on the deck and read, weeding that wants to be done. The fan overhead brushing cool air across my desk.

This life, now, here. This is to be lived in the fullness of all I imagine. Love, joy, peace, rest, beauty - it is all here, now. Not in some imagined perfect future. In perfect today. And I smile, seeing it all in a new light, a fresh perspective, a deep gratefulness for all that is here, now.

Jump

This weekend is the Jumping Tandem retreat. I prayed to go. The Lord said, "No." So, I prayed some more, asking, "Maybe?" Still, the answer, "No."

The mental jump to the point of acceptance feels, sometimes, like a wild leap into the unknown.

But there is still a further jump to make. The jump to gratefulness. The wild leap of joy, like the kids competing to see who can make the biggest cannonball splash, into the pool of joy. That is where I sit on the sidelines, my towel tucked around me, not going into the water, not even my toes. I hide, I step aside, I watch others take the step.

A mental jump. A choice. To stretch the edges of my mouth, just a little, and then, to smile. To take a deep breath and relax into the pleasure of joy. To get splashed by the drops of others' joy as they jump in.

Acceptance. When the edges of life aren't sewed up the way I would like them to be.

Gratefulness. Joy. When the seams of my days unravel and fray. I make the choice to jump in to the day I am given. And maybe splash others when I do, here, from where I am.

Five Minute Fridays

He is Home

Five Minute Friday, once again. The prompt this week, the word, Home. Write, five minutes, free and easy, listening to the words, tapping them out on the keyboard.

Home

Our lab has insecurity issues. The times we are gone, which for her sake are infrequent, she can be a real basket case, a bundle of nerves. Yet, when her boy is home, she relaxes and life is good. Fortunately, he is home most of the time.

We were discussing the other day, how she pouts when he is gone. Her whole demeanor changes. It is not a visible face pout like you or I would make, but her whole body pouts. She tolerates the rest of us, she knows she is not alone. But when he walks back through that door, her whole body smiles. Life is good. Same thing when Dad walks through the door after work. She wiggles and wags, content to have her family all home, together, again. Now she can relax and enjoy life - which means go to sleep on her comfy blanket.

Her security is people, not place. She loves to go out, for a walk, for a ride, as long as her people are there. For her, anywhere is home, with her people. Aside from the insecurity issues, this is a good philosophy. A home is not a place as much as it is the location of connected hearts.

Time is up.

Just Me

The prompt this week for the Friday Five Minutes is "ordinary." Five minutes, words flowing, unrestrained, unplanned, unedited.

linked with lisajobaker.com



Plain and ordinary. That I can do. Just me. Some may be motivated by fame or fortune. Fame does not interest me one little tiny bit. No siree. Fortune -well, that would be fun to try, at least, for awhile...

Just ordinary me.
 The face the son wants to see when he wakes up in the morning.
The master meal cooker.
The kitty litter cleaner.
The make sure the trash is out on the right night person.
The one who notices the weeds.
The one who notices the dust and clutter scattered on the table.
The one who knows where the feather duster is (didn't say I got it out and used it, did I...)
The inspired pile sorter, and the inspired pile maker, and the piles-on-my-desk dreamer.
The book reader.
The word writer.
The dog walker and cat lap.
The heart that wants to love and understand and grow and thrive.
The mind that wants to learn and understand and grow and thrive.
Yup. Just ordinary me, making it through the ordinary days.

source - Mary Engelbreit calendar

Mummy

This week's Five Minute Friday prompt:

What My Mama Did

For me, her cozy name is Mommy, pronounced like Mummy. An English holdover I guess, part of the New England heritage my parents brought to the west coast with them. I heard that J.K. Rowling had to edit her Harry Potter series for U.S. publication because she used the endearing term Mummy - perfectly sensible in England, but not here in the U.S. I could never pronounce it like I was yawning, Mawmmy. It has to be a short "u" like a hug, Mummy. But I digress.

My one-word for 2013 is, "quiet." Learning a deep inside, calm sense of quiet trust and love and grace. He leads me beside still waters.

Last Sunday, for my verse and photo I used a quote about Psalm 23, about going through the valley of shadows, and remembering a shadow is cast by a light behind it.

Thinking of what my Mummy did for me, across all those years - how do you isolate just one thing?

One vivid memory. We were in our kitchen, that minty green so popular in the late 50's. She was ironing, standing at the board, sprinkling water on the clothes from an old soda bottle topped with a corked metal thingy with holes, running the heavy metal iron over them, pressing out the corners of collars and smoothing out the wrinkles. I was probably bugging her, hounding her about something. She taught me Psalm 23. Had me repeat it over and over until I got it word perfect. Me, sitting, restless, on the kitchen floor. She, standing, her hands busy, offering me words that would stay with me, guide me the rest of my life. Then she sent me outside to play.

She had to put her hair up in pin curls every night. Mine just curled on its own.

And now, fifty some years later, the voice of those peaceful, calm words still ring in my heart. Deeply, their truths revealing and splashing refreshing comfort over my restless days. And I am grateful she took the time to teach me those quiet words.

Again, Again, and Again...

Today's Five Minute Friday, brought to you by LisaJo Baker, with the prompt word, Again. She inspires a passel of us to write for five minutes, putting ideas to words and fingers to the keyboard.


I stand at the kitchen sink, the coffee dripping into my mug, gazing out through the bare tree branches toward the east. The sky, a dim gray, lightens in the few moments I stand there. The line of gray changes to light blue, then a dusty pink, and a yellow spot glows like someone lit a smokeless fire.

Another chance. A fresh start. A new day. A gift each morning as the light chases away the dark. Looking at the word, "again," I see two words. A Gain. Each new day is a chance, again and again and again, to gain. Not a materialistic gain, but a deep sense of peace and trust. A chance to love. An opportunity to say grace. A day, again, one more day, to live with a quiet heart. Again.

Dive In

This week's Five Minute Friday prompt, DIVE.

The only way to accomplish a tough project? Dive in and start. Piece by piece. Connection by connection.

Afraid? Dive in.

January is a quiet month for me, few words, a photo each day.

Wandering Wonder

Five Minute Friday, today. The next one will be January, 2013. Sigh. Oh my. A deep breath, quick, before panic sets in. Before the unsettled nerves of all that has to be done in the next month, and all the unknown that spreads ahead in the new year...

But, today. Five minutes, right now, this moment.

Today's theme word, Wonder.

Go.

I wonder as I wander out under the stars...These words to a familiar Christmas song ring true to my heart.

I wander. I roam aimlessly through the days, the weeks, the months, the years. I keep busy. I do the next thing. I make lists (oh, I am good at lists!). I search to find a path. I blaze a new trail. I sit down and wait for someone to - please, oh please - show me the way. And, I get up and wander again.

As I go, I learn. I grow. I discover. I travel. I stay at home. I explore. I draw in tightly within my shell, keep my wanderings close, internal.

As I wander, I grow in wonder. The ocean waves unsettled on the shore. The mountain peaks, dusted with powdered snow. The sunsets coloring the town with peach and yellow and pink. Baby toes, growing quietly inside mama. A petal, unfurling into a splash of deep red. The full moon, glowing, illuminating across the dark sky.

So much, if I just open my eyes, awake to the wonder of it all. When I wander, my focus is down, on my feet, the path, trying not to trip. When I wonder, I look up, look out beyond myself, see so, so much more.

His mercies are new every morning. Ah, the wonder of it all.

Time is up.

Today, Thank You

Today's theme word for the Friday Five Minutes is Thank You.
LisaJo will be taking a break over December, so this is almost the last Friday Five for 2012.
The idea, write for five minutes, easy breezy - let the words flow, gentle, from the heart.

Thank You
     for today, another day to live and love and learn

Thank You
     for time that whirls and time that drags pokey

Thank You
     for the hope that there is adventure ahead

Thank You
     for the fear of what is ahead - that You will guide, always

Thank You
     for tough health conditions that cause us to slow down and pay attention

Thank You
     for winter blossoms

Thank You 
     for home, this home, our home

Thank You
     for sunrises and sunsets, the capital letter at the beginning of each day and the period at the end   (sometimes an exclamation point!)

Thank You
     for all here that gives us a glimpse into Your love and care

Thank You
     for the continuing challenge to list, daily a counting of one thousand gifts - and beyond

Thank You
     for awake, the word for me, for this Christmas season

Rooted

This is part of the Friday Five Minutes, instigated by LisaJo, aka the gypsy mama. What she calls a flash mob of writers, heart and soul, winged and free, writing for five minutes, connecting back to her blog, connecting with each other. It is fun - no pretences, no over-thinking, no detailed editing. Lovely. I look forward to this each week. I took time off, posting Thirty-One, A Novel, through October, but glad to be back.




This week the topic is:

Roots

Did you see some of the photos from hurricane Sandy, of trees pulled up by the roots? Whole trees, big trees, their roots exposed and wild looking, like dread-locks, twisted and intertwined and tangled. Above ground. Not where they are supposed to be. Roots are meant to be snug and safe and tucked into the deep dark earth, soaking up nutrients and water, subterranean, giving the tree its life and its stability.

Roots. Some people seem to have them. They stay, planted, firm, right where they are, year after year. The same neighborhood, the same church, the same grocery store, the same car repair guy.

Some of us do not have roots. We wander. We move. We wonder what will come next. We find new sources of inspiration, new views, new perspectives.

Have you seen photos of a tree, fallen, with a new shoot springing up from its trunk? Just enough roots left in the ground to spark new growth. Roots, digging in, seeking life, rooting. Funny, I hadn't thought of roots, rooting. Pigs root, or our dog roots when she is making a nest of her blanket. Of course, roots root. Seeking, searching, looking, wandering, reaching out for what will give stability and nurture. Like our dog, when she settles into her nested pile of blanket, safe, secure.

When the storms come, we hang on, leaning into the roots.

Well, time is up. Went a little over, actually.

Connection

Five Minute Friday, is about writing a topic supplied by the gypsy mama. We write, the timer set or an eye on the clock, winging it, streaming the words on to the keyboard. Five minutes of discovery. This week,

GRASP

Grasp. First impression.
I don't like this word.
Sounds greedy.

My desire is to go through life with an open palm, accepting.
Not a tight fist, fighting.

Yet there are things we want to grasp.
When working with my son on his math, I want him to grasp the lesson.

A good handshake takes a firm grasp. A  connection between two people as they look each other in the eye, welcoming, meeting, connecting, not just the physical touch, but the heart and soul and mind.

Sometimes, when someone is struggling, I want to say, "Get a grip." I say that to myself sometimes, too.

So it is not a bad word. It has meaning on many levels. To understand, to grasp the truth, and hold it firmly. That is a good thing. Connecting with others around us, grasping their hand and making the connection with them, deeply, that is a good thing.

Time is up.

Really See

Friday Five Minutes, by www.thegypsymama.com. Today's topic is SEE. Write, five minutes, loose and billowy and blowing in the wind. SEE where it goes.

SEE

I love to hear Ann Voskamp's voice in her video promoting the book, One Thousand Gifts. I go back and listen to it once in awhile just to hear her, to be reminded to see, really see. "To be able to be aware, awake to all that life has to offer." To see, really see, and not miss out...

It is one thing to look at something, the view across the valley, the petals on the flower, the hot pink of the wave petunias, the sunlight shining through the tomato, the hummingbird glistening in the sunshine. But to see, really see. Deeply see. That is an art.

An artist must see all the shadows, shades, color variations, blendings of shape and form and light. A writer must find the word that draws the picture with letters and sounds, giving life to a character, a scene. Both the artist and the writer take a 3-D scene or situation, turn it into a flat composition, which then recreates the 3-D scene in the viewers mind. Enables them to see, really see what they saw in their mind.

Fascinating. The art of conveying art from one mind to another, from one eye to another. It happens when one person sees - really sees. They take that vision, that eye for detail, and carry  it, transmit it to someone else. A deep form of communication. Beautiful when it happens.

This weekend, I hope you can see, really see.

Realer Than Real

Today's topic for the Five Minute Fridays, linked to www.thegypsymama.com, is REAL. Write for five fun minutes, without worry and without working it too hard. Just write.

REAL

Begin.
The first thought that comes to mind, for real, is tangible, measurable, visible - easily discerned by the five senses. Something you can touch or see or buy or taste.

As age moves its hands around my clock, though, I am understanding more than ever that what is real, what is realer than real, what is most important, is rarely touched by the five senses. Real is not always touched or seen or bought or tasted.

What is real? Love. Connection between two hearts, communicating in unspoken ways. A look, a glance from across a room that speaks volumes.

Our dog, blind now for three months, learning to see in so many ways we had never considered. She knows where we are by scent, by the slightest movement. She is sensitive in so many unseen ways that give her sight. She plays hide and seek with her boy while he hides in plain sight. She picks up his scent - we can't see it, but it is there, realer than real to her.

The qualities that make us strong, the character that makes us who we are, the choices we make, those are the reality, the realer than real within us.

Time's Up.

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
Hebrews 11:1

Together at our Table

Five Minute Friday, hosted by www.thegypsymama.com gives us a chance to free write for five minutes about her given topic. Just write, for fun, for speed, for the adventure to explore an unknown destination, see where it ends up. This week,

TOGETHER

Together, for me is about our table. The times we gather together around our table, day after day after day, there, together.


Sitting in a hospital waiting room, for our son's MRI late one night, my husband leaned over and said, "Recognize those doors?" They were the same as our table. He is in commercial construction, doors and hardware. For a Kaiser Hospital project, some of the doors were ordered wrong or something - don't remember for sure. He had three formica laminate hard core doors left over. Two of them, he attached to an old, beat up (as all our tables were in short time) oak frame table top. The other one, he cut in half and had the guys in the shop make iron u-shaped legs, to attach for benches. Don't even know how many years ago that was. That table is in family photos from way back. I could spend five minutes just listing all that has happened around that table.

Preparing the food, setting the table, gathering around it for our dinner meal every day. That is vitally important to me. We laugh and talk. Gathered around our table.

 We take the time, together, building a shared experience that will be a memory forever, and, like our table that has withstood the test of time when many other tables fell apart (literally), we build strong memories, and stronger hopes of future times, together.

Time is up.

"A table lovingly prepared...You have created a gracious setting for this special time,
An interlude in your day.
Now around your table loved ones can safely talk and tell,
listen and laugh, engage and enjoy, rehearse and reflect on the day...
Because you have fashioned a setting,
an atmosphere for strengthening relationships, for forming character.
An occasion to restore the graciousness of living."

-Kay Arthur
A Sanctuary For Your Soul

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments.

Light in Darkness

Five Minute Fridays, with www.thegypsymama.com. She gives a word, we write for five minutes, for fun, without over-thinking, with heart and mind. The word this week:

LIGHT

Go. Light. Right - write for five minutes about light? What a topic. Endless.

Our blind dog, now, learning to live without light. Yet she sees. Through other senses. Obviously, her smell, by sound, but in other ways, too. She feels her way around the house. She prances proudly beside her boy as we go out for walks on her familiar route. Sometimes a strange sound will frighten her, but normally, she knows the route by sight, by understanding, even without light in her eyes.

I remember studying light with the kids. Seeing the spectrum of light waves and the narrow, tiny part of that that is our vision, our perspective of color and light. There is so much more. Energy. Heat. Sound waves. Power. All a part of light that our human perceptions miss completely. We are short-sighted, narrow minded. Ignorant of so much that is going on around us. Blind in many, many ways.

Navigating through life, attempting to see and understand, learning, feeling our way along as we go. As our dog does, sometimes bumping into the walls, sometimes confused about about where we are, sometimes frightened by the unknown. Yet she knows we are there, there is still trust and joy and love. Even in the darkness.

Time is up.

Gift Moment

Friday Five, together with others inspired by www.thegypsymama.com. Write for five minutes, free to think quickly and simply. Just write. The word this week:

Gift

Begin. The obvious gift, a present, beautifully wrapped and bowed and tagged and given, handed to you, or you handing it to another.

A gift, though, goes to the heart, from the heart. Why we give. To whom we give. Not really what we give, but the why - that is so much more important. From a heart of caring, loving, enjoying, appreciating, wanting to share something we have with someone else.

A gift, wrapped up. The thrill, maybe of surprise. Not an expected gift, but an unexpected that catches us off guard. Makes us catch our breath with the happy thrill.

And, the gifts that aren't always happy. Sitting in a hospital room with a son, realizing the gift moment, even in that. He is alive. He is being cared for by people who care and know how to care. His unique needs, also a gift, a gift that says, "Hey. Pay attention. Be alert. Be aware. Be awake."

 A gift moment, laughter even in the middle of pain. A smile, in the middle of a tough situation.

Gift Moment.

Time is up. Done.

Brave

Five Minute Fridays with www.thegypsymama.com. One word, write for five minutes, for fun and without lots of  over-thinking. This week,
Brave

Brave is a tough word. Images of soldiers and firemen and police and military come to mind. I am not of that category. Timid would describe me much more accurately. I am extremely grateful for those who do that type of work, grateful and amazed at their boldness and courage. Some in my family are that category: one son described it as, when something happens, they run toward the danger/event/crisis, while I would run the opposite direction, fast.

Yet, I have been called brave. For the choices I made with child rearing and home teaching and being a stay at home mom. Brave? Some days were terrifying. Some days still are. The relationships, the conflicts, the work involved are hard, challenging.

Those who run toward the danger, what are they thinking? Of helping, of coming to the aid, of rescue and giving hope and healing to someone in pain or danger. Perhaps what I do isn't all that different. Just not as dramatic. While I work quietly at home, working in these young people's lives, my goal is to help and heal and protect.

Time is up.

Empty with Possibilities

Five minute Friday, a word given by www.thegypsymama.com. We write for five minutes, simply, no editing, quickly, without over-thinking. Link up to the others, then compare and enjoy the other interpretations. Join us.

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.

Empty

A negative word, or is it? Empty isn't necessarily a bad thing. Empty leaves lots of room for possibilities. For potential. For room to grow. An empty nest is space waiting to be filled. An empty time slot is time to enjoy, to relax, to rest. An empty shelf, the stuff cleared off and removed, is space to breathe and see, and maybe fill with something new.

Empty makes me think of the chance to explore new ideas rather than all my preconceived notions that I am so sure of. The chance to re-think, to look at something with new eyes and see the potential.

Empty is the pot, ready to be planted, willing to allow for growth and fruit and productivity. The seeds need space to sprout and stretch out their tiny shoots that will plow through the dirt and reach for the sun, opening up to two tiny new leaves, an elongated stem, more leaves, then blossoms and fruit.

No longer empty, but beautiful and productive.

Time's up.

Spectacularity

Five minute Fridays. A topic is given by www.thegypsymama.com, and we write for five minutes only, no editing, no over thinking, just writing as the thoughts flow. Then, we link up and compare. I wrote on yesterday's post about how different writers can come up with completely different results with the same topic.This is a perfect example of that happening. It is fun to read the other five minute posts and see how vastly different and creative we all are. The same with life. It seems two people can go through the same circumstances - one is bitter and the other grows stronger. It's all in how we see it. These five minute Fridays are fun, and a good reminder to take what we are given and run with it!


Ache

The first thought, of course, is pain. A toothache. A sore muscle.

Or, emotional pain. Loneliness. Disappointment. Discouragement.

But, I think, too, there is an ache as we see something beautiful. The sunset stops us in our tracks and we look, in awe, pausing in our busy steps to gaze at the sky. Spectacularity. Something hilarious becomes hilarity, right? So, something spectacular can have spectacularity. The water, cascading down the cliff in a thundering waterfall. The tree, the trunk so big you can't begin to reach around it, as you tilt back your head and look way, way up toward the tip, high above you. The stars, on a crystal clear, crisp cold night, alive and bright in the sky. The ocean waves crashing against the rocks, the spray arching into the sky. The bird, soaring, drifting. floating high above the earth.

All of these create in me a deep ache, a quiet of beauty.

Ooops, time's up.