Five-Minute Friday: Quiet

There is pregnant silence

the kind that is quietly laboring

and bearing down

and contracting the muscles of the heart

as I sit in the stillness of early morning

about to birth a change in heart and thought

conviction.

A friend once told me to be careful

and carefully pick the hills on which

I would choose not only to run up

and standatop breathless and winded

heart pounding

but also the hills on which

I would choose to die.

And I know

as I reach the point

where I think I just can't do this

I let go

the heart changes

and beauty is birthed

from a dying of my strength

and goodness

and justice

and trusting in His.

Five-Minute Friday: Look

I wake slowly from a peaceful slumber

pull myself quietly, softly from between warm sheets and bodies.

It's not often that I can slip out of the room,

leave everyone cuddled snugly in their beds, in their dream lands 

and quietly make my way downstairs that groan beneath my feet. 

I rise before the sun, greet billowing October clouds

and I feel a pull to Words. 

His.

And mine own spilling from my mind and through pen,

a love letter response to the one He wrote me. 

In the quiet lingering darkness of early morning

the cobwebs in the corners 

and dirty dishes piled next to the sink 

don't taunt me, 

don't tempt me, 

don't scream for me to look as I walk past. 

Because in these precious, quiet moments

when I'm the only awake

I'm drawn to a different kind of housekeeping

that of dusting off the soul

cleaning up these thoughts

and polishing this heart. 

Just Write: More

I know.

I know that when little ones act up and out that they need more --

More love

More attention

More patience

More time --

More.

More from me.

But I've been driving around this block for weeks on end, and the gas light is on and the kids are still screaming in the background and the radio is blaring and there's so much noise in this proverbial car and in my not-so proverbial head that I just can't isolate anything to turn it off for long enough to realize

that I've got to stop for gas, like, ten miles ago.

Because that last fill up for how long I've been driving

can't last for as long as I've been going.

I need an off ramp

with an Oasis

to refuel so much more often

now that the load is filled with

growing boy bodies

growing hearts

growing lessons

and growing miles to trek.

And sometimes, I guess, we just have to put it in park

and watch the sun rise and set*

remembering we didn't have to push the pedal a little further to the metal

for either to happen.




*Super huge thanks to Corinne for reminding me of this awesome truth.