Five Minute Friday Update

I'm certain that yesterday's Five Minute Friday post had everyone on the lookout for some missing items.  However, you can call off the search party.

I am happy to announce that I'm no longer missing my keys and flash drives.  They were hiding out in a purse that was crammed inside a plastic bag full of ball caps.

Oh, Happy Day!

Now, if we could only find those missing shoes!

Happy Saturday Friends.

Five Minute Friday ~ Find

It's been a loooonnnngggg week.  The first full week of school.  I'm tired.  But not too tired for a little Five Minute Friday action.  Are you game?  Join in.  Just take the prompt and write for five minutes. That's it.  No overthinking. Supposedly no editing, but some of us can't help it.  Just write for five minutes.

This week's prompt:

I can't find my hot pink keychain that I bought last year. It has my first initial on it.  And it has my work keys.  I kinda need it.

I can't find my flash drive....well, three of them to be exact.  They have my entire school life on them from the past 4 years. I kinda need them.

My husband can't find his Sanuk slip ons.  We have no idea where they are.  I figure they are in cahoots with the keys and flash drives and they've done R-U-N-N-O-F-T. (Any movie lovers out there?)

But seriously..

How many times are we searching for something???? I swear I'd lose my head sometimes if it weren't already attached to my body.

But how about those times we are searching and we find the wrong thing.  We find a pitiful substitute for what we really need?  For many people that happens too much.

We seek, but we choose poorly.

God is always the perfect choice.  He satisfies the longing of our souls.  When something is missing....how wonderful it is to be found in Him.


Sometimes we search for Him and don't see Him.  There's something clouding our view because God, well, He's always there.  He's always waiting for us.

Thank you so much for allowing me to share these words with you.  Don't forget to head on over to Kate's to join in.

Making Room for Being a Writer

While at the Five Minute Friday Retreat, we were treated to a video chat with Ann Kroeker and Charity Singleton Craig, authors of On Being a Writer.  They asked us to go around the room and share some goals we had as writers.

One of my main goals was this.....to write consistently.

If you go back through my blog, you'll see that there are seasons where I posted quite often and seasons where I rarely posted anything.

Consistency is quite an issue for me.

I work full time as an elementary school teacher.

I am married and have 3 children.

I coach soccer.

I coach robotics.

I volunteer in our church.

I am a resource teacher for interns and student teachers.

I have laundry, dishes, a cat, and 3 hermit crabs to take care of.

I seriously have a lot going on.

As much as I want to make writing a priority, it doesn't always happen.

Like Kate Motaung and many others, I often feel guilty for taking time to write.  There's laundry to be done, dishes to be washed, and kids to look after.  I can easily forget the laundry and dishes. I've learned they'll always be there.  But my children....I feel guilty for allowing them to sit in front of the TV or play on the iPads longer than they really should while I peck away at the keyboard.  Shouldn't I be spending time reading with them? Playing with them?  And my husband.....shouldn't I be spending that time having meaningful conversations with him? After all, when the kids are asleep, that's our time to really catch up on our day and activities and connect (Currently, we are in bed. Me with the laptop, him with the iPhone, and Cubs on the TV. Go Cubs! Go!). I think as moms, we do guilt ourselves into neglecting our time to do "our thing," whether its writing, exercising, crafts, or gardening.  However, what I'm realizing, even if its just for me, is that I need that time to refresh. Time for myself is good.

In reality though, my writing time is what Kate described as scraps. Pieces from here and there stitched together.  The kids are playing, laundry is going, and the dish washer is running so I sit to write.  Then I hear, "Mama!"  I get needs taken care of and then try again.  That's the way it usually goes.  I won't even mention how many of my Five Minute Friday posts took at least an hour to get through!

But time is definitely a factor.

As far as space, my writing spot......its usually somewhere close to all the action in the house.  I've realized the closer I am to my 3 boys, the less they need me.  If I go to the bedroom or outside (anything that even hints at privacy), they realize they can't live without me and are completely unable to do anything on their own.

We've just moved into a new home, and although I am typing from the comfort of my bed, my usual physical space for writing is my breakfast table.

It's in the kitchen which means my boys are usually in the next room. It also puts me very close to the coffee pot.  The view is excellent.  I can gaze at the horses out the door during the day. And at night, the yellow walls brighten up the room. Its a nice consistent spot to be.

The biggest thing I have done in arranging my life to be able to write is spend time with God.  That's huge considering the purpose of this blog is to bring Him honor and glory.  He and I made this deal when I started blogging that this space is for Him.  He would come first.  Then I would use what He's teaching me through Bible study, prayer, and life to give hope and encouragement here.  As you can see from my picture above, my Bible is always close by when I'm writing. I take pictures of scripture as I'm doing Bible study so I can use it in my writing.  God speaks to me like that,  and I have to share it.

All in all.....

I'm trying.

I'm trying to give more attention to this thing called writing that I love to do.

I want more of it.  I want more out of it.

One day, I'd love to make a career out of it.  Not sure if that would ever happen or even if God wants it for me, but that's a hope and dream of mine.

I am realistic and realize right now that I can't quit teaching to pursue writing. Student loans, a teenager who is going to need braces soon, a car payment, and two mortgages tell me so. You can help a girl get closer to her goal by buying my old house!  That'd save me some money each month!

But I do have goals, and I think that's a start.  And knowing what those goals are, I can arrange my time and my space to reach those goals.

I encourage you to do the same.  Whether it's writing or something else, make time for it.  Get rid of some time wasters.  I'll tell you what...I'm NOT missing Frozen Free Fall or Hay Day.  But I do miss out (and feel it in my soul too) when I don't take time for me. And writing is me.  It's what I do. It's who I am.

And I feel so brave typing those words. You can too.

I am a Writer

I've never considered myself a writer.  I guess the fact of the matter is, I've unconsciously felt that writers were published, sought after, paid, and famous.

But me? A writer?

Nah!

Until this....

As an attendee at the Five Minute Friday Retreat, I received a door prize.  This lovely gem....

I took that picture and sent it to my husband with this comment: Could this be a sign?

And it was.

That cute little necklace gave me the courage to call myself a writer.

If I go back to the prerequisites I listed above, I can only check off one of those. I am "published," and I say that lightly. I have written for Wives of Faith and Planting Roots, two wonderful military spouse communities. I also publish here on the blog. That orange button up there in the top right corner says so!

But seriously...

I am a lover of words.  I love how words can lift people, can boost their imaginations, can change their perspective.

I am a user of the written words.  I write notes of encouragement. I write love letters to my husband and children. I write here on my blog and in my journal. I write for me. I write for you.

I am a writer!

I'm not a writer because you say I am. I am writer because God has given me that gift, and as I am learning, I am to be faithful in using that gift.

Whether I publish a book or not, 

Whether I am a sought out author or not,

Whether I am paid or not,

Whether I am famous or not,

I will continue to write

Because I am a writer..

LEARN (Five Minute Friday Sunday Evening)

I am a mama.
I am a teacher.
I am a wife.
I am 37ish years old.

When my kids ask me how I know something, my reply is, "I know everything."  They laugh because they know it's not true.

And it's not.

I still have a lot to learn.

And I do learn....every day.

The most important life lesson that I've learned and am still learning is

God's not done with me yet!

Thank you, Lord.

Some days I'm a hot mess.
Some days, cool as a cucumber.

Either way, far from perfect.

I am learning, as a woman, that I am ME. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Scars and all.

I am learning that my journey is different than your journey and that's perfectly fine.

God didn't intend for us all to be the same.

I am learning more and more every day that I want to be found in His holiness. I want Him to fill my soul with His presence.  Because really....honestly...without Him, I am nothing.

I am learning more and more every day that I crave His grace and mercy.....especially on those "hot mess days."

And as I learn, I have to share, to teach, to show others what God has done in my life.

Wow! That five minutes went particularly fast today.  Thank you for allowing me to share my Five Minute Friday thoughts with you on this Sunday afternoon!

These Are My People

I'm a homebody.  I don't like to bring attention to myself.  New social situations are uncomfortable for me.

So the thought of attending a weekend retreat with total strangers terrified me.  With the encouragement of my husband, I clicked submit and marked my calendar for August 7-9: The First Ever Five Minute Friday Retreat.

And y'all, let me just say this: 

These are my people

Different Ages. 

Different Races. 

Different Backgrounds.

Different Hometowns.

Different Experiences.

Different Denominations.

One Heart.

The Heart of Jesus is the way I'd describe these women.  Amazing women.  Women who are now a part of me.

As a writer....and yes, because of these women, I can boldly say, I am a writer.....I've learned so much in such short amount of time.  

I was reminded that we are the body of Christ.  We've each been given different spiritual gifts, different life paths, and different hopes and dreams and realities.  But in all of this, we need to be content with our own journey, our own path.  We need to realize, as Mary said, "My big is someone else's ordinary."

And for me, the Five Minute Friday Retreat was my BIG, very big.

Where else can you walk through the door not knowing what's on the the other side and be greeted by strangers who already know you?

Where else can the theme of the weekend, whether woman planned or God planned is bravery, when you feel like the least brave person you know?

What else can make you feel a little empty when you walk away from it that last day?

Y'all, these are my people.

I'll never forget Martha's sweet manner.

I'll never forget Janel's contagious personality.

I'll never forget listening to Kate read about Spanx as we laughed til we cried.

I'll never forget praying for Christy and Melinda when they were stranded with a flat tire even though I'd never met them in real life.

I'll never forget praying for women that I'd never know, only God would know, as I cut denim petals.

I'll never forget dinner at Hadley's with fried everything and saying a few Spanish words with that southern twang.

I'll never forget sweet Haven and the joy she brought to us.

This was a time of many firsts for me.

The first time to leave my family and do something on my on, by myself, for myself.

The first time eating grits. 

The first time cooking with black beans (Thank you Mollie for letting me know I needed to rinse them!).

The first time sharing my writing face to face.

The first time connecting with women on a different level than I am used to.

The first time using my bar of Zest to wash my hair because I grabbed body lotion instead of shampoo.

I admit.....It would have been easy, oh, so easy for me to back out.  With Space Camp, Army Training, Soccer Tournaments.....yes, I could have easily said it just wasn't the right time for me.  I was a too busy. I wasn't quite ready to jump into this.

But

God gave me a peace of mind. He never gave this socially backwards girl a nervous heart.  He sent me right where He wanted me.  And Kate, I agree with you.  We were meant to be there.

I take away from this experience many things.  New friendships. Wisdom.  Memories.  I take away a little piece of the bravery shared through our devotions. I take away gifts from obedience and following through with what God has asked me to do.  I take away the reminder that as a writer, I am called to write TRUTH.  My audience isn't necessarily you, the blog readers, my audience is Christ.  When I  click publish, my words should reflect His Truth. His Love. His Mercy. His Grace. His Hope. His Redemption. His Story.

And that's what I've found in these women.  I've found that He lives in their hearts and in them, they have a story to tell, and as Kaitlyn says, a story that matters.  We matter.  We matter as women, as mothers, as daughters of the One True King.

And y'all, these are my people. These are my sisters.  Forevevermore, because of a little thing God put in the heart of Lisa-Jo Baker and she passed along to Kate Motaung, these five minutes we spend on Fridays, knit together a bond that is strong, that is pure, that is God created.

I'm grateful.  I'm grateful for the time spent with these women.  For their love, their sincerity.  I'm thankful that although we are all different, no judgement was passed. Our insecurities were out the door because of love, because of kindness, because of compassion.

I am grateful for these people, my people.  

Love and hugs to you all until we meet in real life again!

Five Minute Friday: HERE

We are gathered here at the Five Minute Friday Retreat. We've chatted, eaten, laughed, and applauded one another.  So now, before bedtime, I will spend five minutes writing, unedited, no overthinking, just writing.


HERE.


So often we are consumed by WHAT WE MUST DO to get the approval or love of others.

How do I get people to like me? How do I keep my friends?  How should I act? What should I say so I don't offend anyone?

We go there to their world.  We act like we believe what they believe.  We do what they do.  All to be accepted.

But God's not like that.  We don't have to go "there" for Him.  He meets us HERE, right where we are.

What an amazing gift that is.

You see, I will never be good enough.

I will never be holy enough.

I will always be imperfect

cracked

scratched

broken

sinful

whatever you want to call it.

And that's ok.  He meets me here where I am, in my brokenness and loves me anyway.

Thank you God for that gift.

Thank you for not requiring anything of me other than surrender.

Five Minute Friday Free Write: TELL

Here it is. I can't believe I am here at the Five Minute Friday Retreat.  Tonight we are having time to Free Write.  We are contributing one word prompts and and getting ready to write for five minutes flat.

Let's do this!!

"Tell me a story, Grandma."

I hope to hear those words one day.  To be surrounded by grandchildren who want to hear my story.

But what will I tell them?

I hope to tell them of a life worth living.  One that was lived to the fullest. One that, well, at the end of it, has NO REGRETS.

I hope to tell them that although life wasn't always easy, I made the best of every situation.  During my struggles, I leaned on God for support, comfort, and guidance.

I hope to tell them how God took a broken woman and used her for His Will.  That I was obedient despite the devil placing fear inside of me.  That each time, I overcame and was victorious because of Christ.

I hope to tell them how I loved my family so much that we laughed together, cried together, played together, and prayed together.

I hope to tell them that although I didn't always agree with the choices their parents made, I still loved them and they never doubted that love.

I hope to tell them that they are my prized possessions, precious gifts from God.

I hope to tell them that they, too have a story to tell. A life to live.  I hope to tell them to seek God, serve Him.  Obey Him. Then one day, when their grandchildren say, "Tell me a story," they will have a story to tell of a life worth living as well.

Back Where I Belong

As the school year ended, I was really excited about sleeping in and then getting up, grabbing a cup of coffee and my Bible, and spending time with God each day.

I hate to admit that as excited as I was about not having to rush about my morning, I have FAILED miserably in spending time with Him this summer.

I can make excuse after excuse, but I won't.

Plain and simple truth?

I put things between us.

Whether it was sleep, TV, technology, the new house, whatever....I failed to spend quality time with Him.

Yesterday during Sunday School, our lesson was about Jonah's disobedience toward God and Ninevah's return to God.  You know the story....

God told Jonah to go to Ninevah and tell the people to repent or they would be destroyed.  Jonah didn't want to so he got on a boat to go far away.  Well, God got upset, caused a storm, and Jonah was confronted by the others on the ship.  Overboard he went, into the stomach of a fish. After 3 days, Jonah was vomitted out and then decided he should obey God.  God gave the people of Ninevah a second chance (and Jonah too).

Second chances.

They are nice aren't they?

When we've messed up big time or lost our way, we yearn for someone to wrap their arms around us, hug us tightly, and say, "It's going to be ok. I'm here and I love you."

God does that for us.

The thing about God is that He knows us....better than we do.  He knows what's in our hearts. He knows our thoughts. He knows our words before we even speak them.  He knows we are going to mess up.  He knows us, BUT He loves us anyway.

God is a giver of second chances.  He gives us a chance to get back where we belong.  And where is that?

With Him.

So today, I am dedicated....I am starting my "second-fortieth" chance.  You see....I've lost count of the number of times I've neglected my relationship with God.  But the thing about God is this....He never walked away from me. He's just been whispering to me and waiting for me to return back to Him.

And that's what I'm doing.

I want that intimacy back.  And what better way to get back there than to spend time with Him.

So today, I looked on my bookshelf and found this....

I started it a long time ago and never finished.  Today, I restart.  I take advantage of my "second-fifty-fifth" chance.

Jesus told the story of the prodigal son.  It is a story of second chances. And today, I return....the prodigal daughter returns to where she belongs.

But I am aware that Satan lurks nearby.  He already has his hand out ready to snatch me back, but God is stronger.  He led me to scripture this morning that I need to keep close to my heart.

As I was reading from Experiencing Spiritual Intimacy, I was instructed to read 1John 5:19-20 that talks about knowing God through Jesus.  But my eyes went further to verse 21

Little children, keep yourselves from idols. Amen.

That hit me.  That....That is what has happened to me.  These idols, I have placed them between myself and God.  I came up with excuse after excuse without really knowing what I was doing. When God whispered to me, "You haven't spent time with me today," I answered him, "I know and I will in a minute. Just let me finish this."  Whatever "this" was, it took His place.  Many days, that idol made me lay down at bedtime and cringe, "Dear God, I'm sorry. I didn't spend time with you like I said I would. Tomorrow will be better."

Only it wasn't.

But thankfully, God is more faithful than I am.

He met me today, wrapped His arms around me, and gave me my "second-sixtieth" chance.  He is helping me get back where I belong.

You're Beautiful and You're Not Perfect and That's OK

My first recollection of comparing myself to other girls was when I didn't make it to the top 10 in our local fair beauty pageant.

Before the pageant, I felt beautiful....as beautiful as a 9 year old girl can feel in an shiny blue itchy dress from the one and only Pistols and Petticoats.

I was a shy girl. Never really liked to call attention to myself, but my friend and I had decided to enter the pageant.  We anxiously waited in line as the names of the finalists....the prettiest girls.....were called for one last look.

My name wasn't called.  I had decided that maybe I wasn't pretty after all.

A year or so passed and once again, my friend talked me into entering the pageant.  This time, I wore a dark blue flowery dress (large flower prints were all the rage).  I was a sixth grader I think.  Again, names were called. Mine wasn't one of them.

I remember thinking....I am prettier than she is.  I felt guilty for having that thought toward another friend of mine, but I thought it anyway! I couldn't understand why her name was called and mine wasn't.

Fast forward to middle and high school.....

I wanted those Guess jeans.
I wanted to wear the same clothes as the popular girls.
I wanted my hair that color, that wavy, that straight.
I wanted those Eastlands and Doc Martens.

For a teenage girl, looks are pretty important.  We want to be just as pretty as the next girl, if not prettier. My magazines were filled with beauty tips and pretty girls that were my age.

During my freshman year of high school, there was one particular girl that I compared myself to.  I found myself wanting to dress like her, wear my hair like her.  In a way, I wanted to be her.  I became obsessed and it took a toll on me and on my body.

I quit eating so much and began to lose weight. Within months, I had lost 30something pounds.  My grandpa told me I was skin and bones and begged me to eat, chunk up a bit, because I worried him.  For me, the skinnier the better because that one girl was bigger than me and this was something I had on her, you know, because all girls want to be skinny.

That spring, I got sick, really sick and had a difficult time getting well. My doctor basically threatened to put me in the hospital if things didn't change.

Slowly, I began to gain a little weight.  Not much, but a little.  I remember my grandpa telling me he was glad I was putting a little meat on my bones.

Still throughout my teenage years, I struggled with how I wanted to look. Was a I pretty enough?  Was my hair just right?  Were my clothes stylish enough?

Then when I was 16 years old, tragedy struck my family.  My aunt was in a freak accident and her hair was ripped from her scalp.  She was lucky the machine that her ponytail was caught in didn't break her neck and kill her.  She would, however, have to live the rest of her life with no hair.  For a 16 year old girl, there was a lesson to be learned here.

Looks mean nothing.

My aunt was (and still is) beautiful.  She always had her makeup and hair just right.  I thought she was perfect in every way.  Now, she would never have hair again.  I didn't care though.  My aunt was alive and that's what mattered.  I reflected on the time I had spent with her throughout the years.  She taught me how to make grilled cheese sandwiches.  She hand made Barbie doll clothes for me (and even treated me to a few store bought Barbie outfits).  She played with me, took me to the park, and took me swimming at the public pool.  She invested her time in me.  That meant more than what appeared in the mirror.

For a 16 year old girl, I learned a valuable lesson:  A beautiful heart is worth more than a beautiful face.

That's a valuable lesson, but for a woman, I think it is one that is easily forgotten.

There's always another comparison to be made.

Maybe not so much as what we look like, although I'll admit that I worried a bit about having to wear a swim suit to Jeff's Army unit's family day event at the water park.  Knowing I'd have to keep up with three kids in a water park for the first time took precedence over what I felt about wearing my tankini in public.

But we compare ourselves to these moms who seem like they have it all together.  You know the ones: they walk into church on Sunday morning smiling, well dressed and their kids are well behaved, while we glue that fake smile on our faces after pulling into the parking lot 10 minutes late because we've had to threaten the lives of our children for fighting and not getting ready. Don't forget the ones that walk through the store with hair in tact (and no gray strands), clothing not stained, and fruits and veggies piled nicely in their shopping cart. Meanwhile, our shopping cart is filled with junk and processed food because our screaming kids who are running around like caged animals that have been set free refuse to eat anything else.

Maybe we aren't comparing ourselves by looks so much anymore, but we are comparing our children, our homes, our cars, our jobs (or envying those stay at home moms who post on Facebook about their morning workouts after the kids are dropped off at school and then they can sit and drink coffee and read on the patio). They seem to have something we don't, and we want it.

But here's the truth.....

I'm not you or her and y'all aren't me and that is perfectly fine because that's the way it's supposed to be.

It took me a long to time realize that God's Word is true.  I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

We've heard the old saying, "God broke the mold when He made you."  It's true for each of us. None of us are the same, and we weren't created to be.  The only thing we should strive for in being alike is that we each have a relationship with Christ and bring Him honor and glory in all we do.

For me,

I will continue to struggle with weight and eating.  I've dealt with it for years.  I am an emotional eater.  I like food. A lot.  I'm overweight and I really don't do much about it. It's my own fault and sin and I have to have God's help in conquering this.

I've got stretch marks from puberty topped with stretched marks from three baby boys.  Those aren't going anywhere.  I carry a muffin top and cellulite with them.

I have bags under my eyes from lack of sleep. My eyelashes have thinned over the years and in Mrs. Trudy's words, time marches across my face.

The strands of gray hair increase each day regardless of what color of hair dye I put on them. Proverbs 16:31 encourages me: Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained by living a godly life.

I can't get jealous of my musically talented friends.  God didn't bless me with that gift.  I do know that when I do sing off key songs of praise, He is still pleased. And one day....oh what a glorious day that will be, my voice will be beautiful as I sing to Him in heaven.

My kids aren't perfect. Your's aren't perfect. They are all human.  Just like adults....kids do stupid stuff.  I have to deal with it.  I have to remember that I was once that age once (which every aged child I'm dealing with at the moment).  My children are going to mess up.  They will make me want to scream and hide and sneak off with a chocolate bar.  They are kids, that's what they do. I made my mom feel that way, and she made her mom feel that way. Oh and the best....My grandkids will make my children feel that way (insert laughter here).

In this season of life, I have a career. The career I've worked hard for, earned two degrees for. A career that hopefully has changed lives. I can't be jealous of the career of others (or lack of).  For this season of my life, this is what I'm supposed to be doing. If God wants me to do something else, I have to trust that He will lead me there. Patience, Darling.  Patience.

What are you struggling with?  Do you want to look like someone else?  Do you want that house in that neighborhood?  Do you want that car? Do you want the life that is continuously posted on social media?

Your life is your life. My life is my life.

Life is hard enough as it is, and we MUST STOP COMPARING ourselves to others.

You are beautiful.  Inside and out. Gray hair, stretch marks, muffin top.  All of it.  You are your own worst critic. I care more about how I look in the swim suit than I care about how you look in your swim suit.  And as far as I look.....if my husband likes me in my swim suit and thinks I'm still sexy after 24 years and three kids, that's what matters to me.

Sweet friend, you are beautiful and you are NOT perfect.  You aren't supposed to be.  We become perfect in Christ in His time. Not ours.

No diet.
No dress size.
No high heel shoe.
No perm.
No exercise program.
No college degree.
No career.
No rich neighborhood.
No BMW.
No amount of money.

None of those things will make you perfect.  Only Christ can do that.

We've got to come to terms with and accept our imperfections and flaws.  Then we have to hand our insecurities, whatever they may be, hand them over to God.  Allow Him to lead us, mold us, change us.  We can't do it alone.  We have to use these flaws, these lessons we've learned from our sinful nature to tell our story.  We have to tell of our struggles with our health, with eating disorders, addictions, insecurities, sin, whatever.  We each have story to share. There's someone out there that feels alone.

There's a young mother who feels guilty for needing a break from her little ones.

There's a working woman who feels guilty for not being the stay at home mom her heart desires.

There's a girl who feels ugly and unpopular and is on the border of a harmful lifestyle.

There's a girl.....me or you...who needs to hear that we are not alone.  We don't need perfect examples.  We need examples of those who have been there, done that, fallen, gotten up, and found strength to accept life and move on.

My friend, you are beautiful.

You are not perfect.

And that's OK.

You are fearfully and wonderfully made.

God broke the mold when He made you.