Today’s Five Minute Friday prompt is the word, ONE. You can link up or read other writers’ thoughts on this word here.
A few days ago, I went in to my oldest daughter Noelle’s bedroom to get her out of bed. When I held her to my chest, I could hear little wheezes and pops deep in her lungs. I knew her snotty-nosed cold got pushed down overnight. As I collected the tubing and the medicine for her nebulizer, my baby, Autumn, woke up. After a strong quiet time with God that morning, I was ready for this. I had read an encouraging chapter in Colossians and had a great time journaling and praying. I scooped up my baby and brought her into Noelle’s room. I sat on the floor nursing Autumn while Noelle sat in her rocking chair next to me, and I held Noelle’s mask during her breathing treatment. I felt like Wonder Woman. Serene and strong. Fast forward ten hours. My husband and I had been downstairs for about an hour when I decided to go upstairs and check on Noelle since she’d been bouncing in her bed for the last fifteen minutes. I opened the door and it reeked of poop. I flicked on the light. My nose wasn’t wrong. Poop was smeared everywhere. All down her legs. All up her arms. All over her bed sheets. On the neck straps and the leg openings of the swimming suit that she’d pulled on over her diaper. I flipped out. No longer was I Wonder Woman. I was a raving mad, barking Chihuahua. As I laid in bed that night next to my husband, our girls were both tucked in to clean beds, and all was right, for that one moment.
This week, I’m joining the Five Minute Friday writing community in writing on the word Repeat, for five minutes flat. Click here to read other great writers, and/or to join us!
Having two little ones under 2.5 years old requires a routine. Wake up, feed baby, put her back to sleep, sneak in a few more minutes of sleep, then go downstairs to make coffee and oatmeal, get toddler out of her room, eat breakfast. My morning would be a blur and all of a sudden, it would be lunchtime and then naps, then I’d make dinner while both girls slept. Then they’d wake up, my husband would come home from work, we’d all eat dinner, then the bedtime routine for the girls, then my husband and I would relax and watch tv until bedtime for us. With this schedule on repeat five days a week (or more if my husband was on call over the weekend), I was dragging. I was giving and going nonstop with nothing filling me. Until two Sundays ago. We were at church and our pastor and his wife invited us to join them on their 21 day fast. As a nursing mama, skipping out on food that long is not even a consideration. So I wondered what else I could give up. And then I realized that instead of sneaking in those extra minutes of sleep, I could read my Bible and journal. What a huge difference that has made in my whole countenance! I’m not on autopilot anymore. Starting the day off with my Creator and reading truth into my soul has filled me with such joy and peace that I find my days fun and exciting. No longer drudgery or boring routine. Every outing or even playtime at home is an opportunity for me to share Jesus with my girls and with whoever we meet.
As the month of October draws to a close, with it brings the colors of Fall and crunchy leaves on the sidewalk. Tomorrow, non-stop Christmas radio stations will begin, and the holiday season will be uncorked. The spooky graveyards and orange lights will be replaced by white strings of happy, welcoming light. The squishy carved pumpkins that as of late have become squirrel (and fly) treats will be tossed out and replaced by wreaths and trees. Sheer fabric ghosts hanging on tree limbs will be swapped out for ornaments. Fall is my favorite season, although it is fleeting.
My mom, my sister, and my aunts (my mom’s sisters) all have the same voice. I can remember having both aunts visit us one summer, and they were all in the kitchen downstairs while I was upstairs getting ready. I couldn’t tell them apart. When one spoke, I couldn’t tell who was speaking. I know my daughters’ voices. I can distinguish their cries from other kids’ on a playground or in their Sunday school classes. My husband has a deep, bellowing voice with a hint of a Boston accent. We know the voices of those we know the best, even with our eyes closed.
Stop striving so hard to do everything on your own.
I watch you struggle, saddened;
I want you to ask me for help.
I can’t let you succeed at everything
or you will falsely believe you don’t need me.
Stop getting so frustrated, My Child.
Just whisper my name, Jesus
and I’ll fill you with peace and work through your hands.
Search for me in my Word
and I’ll give you wisdom.
Reach out to me when you are empty
and I’ll fill you up to overflowing.
Press in close to me
when everyone else has abandoned you.
I created you to need me. It is not a weakness to acknowledge your need.
You have freedom when you allow me to be your strength.
You have abundant life when you let me in.
When we put our two-year-old to bed at night, it’s always the same routine. Brush teeth, sit on the rocking chair in Daddy’s lap, Momma sits on the rocking footstool with Baby Sister, we all read a book together, say a prayer, then sing songs before getting tucked in. Usually for the singing part of the night, I pass the baby over to Daddy, and I hold the two-year-old while we sing. Daddy and Baby sister stay for one song, then I continue holding my oldest for another song or two, depending on how many she can coax out of me. Twinkle Twinkle, Row Row Row Your Boat, This Little Light of Mine, You are My Sunshine, I’ve Been Working on the Railroad, Frere Jacques, Amazing Grace, Jesus Loves Me, and Jesus Loves the Little Children are our staples. Then, other songs I grew up singing in church will pop into my head and I’ll sing those too. Her laughing eyes look at me, and she asks, “Where did that song come from?” I’ll usually answer her, “From my head, Mademoiselle,” then kiss her goodnight.
Everything can change in just one moment:
A door slams.
That first kiss.
A striking match.
Blowing out a candle.
A baby’s first cry.
Swallowing that first taste of alcohol.
It is finished.
As I sit in the living room with my husband, the World Series is on in the background. I’ve just spent the last ten or fifteen minutes with my head down swiping through Facebook posts and friend suggestions. Not a single word was said between me and my husband. Now as I sit to write my five minutes for today, I realize how easy it is to become distracted and have an entire evening pass away without any substantial conversation occurring between us. Half-listening as we either watch tv or have our heads buried in our phones, neither of us are giving the other our whole, undivided attention. Lord, thank you for not letting this go unchecked or unnoticed.
To capture a moment in time on film
to capture a butterfly or firefly in your hands
to capture someone’s personality in a single frame.
To take captive every thought that intends to destroy us
to allow our hearts to be captured by love
to allow our minds to be captured in wonder.
We have the ability to capture and be captured.
Do we use it for good? Do we allow the Truth to capture our attention?
During Hurricane Matthew, we had my sister’s two daughters for nearly two weeks. My sister had to work at the hospital on lockdown, so she wanted to be sure her girls would be safe away from the storm. I loved having them. How wonderful it was to have two extra sets of hands with my two little girls. While I was feeding my baby and putting her to bed, my nieces would change and take care of my two-year-old. My oldest niece loves to help in the kitchen, so it was wonderful having someone make dessert while I made dinner, or to chop, or to measure. I was so spoiled having their help. When finally the flooding receded, my nieces were able to go back home, it was like I was missing limbs. Who do I get up first? How do I get them both down for naps when they’re melting down? Oh yes, reality. Hi there.
I can remember writing something for my Freshman writing class at UNCW. Actually, I don’t remember what it was about, but I do remember verbatim what my professor wrote underneath my 80%. “Brevity is good, but this is way too short.” I had written down my point. I didn’t feel like there was any need for more fluff. I’m not good at making stuff up as filler. When someone says, “I’ll try to make this brief,” take a breath and get comfy. You know you’re in for a long-winded story.
The very condition of having Friends is that we should want something else besides Friends. Where the truthful answer to the question “Do you see the same truth?” would be “I see nothing and I don’t care about the truth; I only want a Friend,” no Friendship can arise – though Affection of course may. There would be nothing for the Friendship to be about; and Friendship must be about something, even if it were only an enthusiasm for dominoes or white mice. Those who have nothing can share nothing; those who are going nowhere can have no fellow-travellers.
Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one.
C.S. LEWIS, The Four Loves
Finding and making new friends as a married woman, and now as a mother, has been a long, and sometimes lonely journey. As a single person, there is no worry about making sure you’re home in time to spend some quality time with your spouse. When presented with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to Thailand for a few weeks, your answer can be “heck yes!” only after considering whether your finances are limiting. Dinner plans can be made at the last minute and no warning is needed if a friend wants to swing by. There is so much more to consider. Now as a wife and mother, I mostly would look for other wives with children, so we have husbands and kids in common. Are my single friends still there? Are my friends with no kids still there? Of course. It’s just different.