5 minutes: unknown

I can't tell you how great it was to read all of your answers yesterday... with the thought that went into some of them, I know you all are going to love the gist of this book and what it makes you ponder.

The winner of Holley Gerth's My Heart for You is:

Zoshadelonghi {side note: I would love to know if that is a last name or if it stands for something...}

Congrats! Email your mailing address to gitzengirl@gmail.com and we'll get your book sent off to you! :)

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Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo, aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

*** Actually, when I checked Lisa-Jo's site, there was no prompt put up, so I'm going to improvise. Since the prompt is - literally - unknown, that's what I'll write about. :) ***

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

:::

Unknown.

The unknown can be our biggest enemy sometimes… the thing we put most of our focus on and what we spend most of our energy trying to control.

I sometimes wonder if it's actually more comforting for us to look ahead and live in the future and all of the unknown simply because we feel a desperate need to avoid the present we're in.

Because, let's face it, the present can be hard. We can be broke or we can be sick or we can be abandoned. We can be living in limbo in our marriages or in crisis with our jobs or aching for our children and their needs. The right now can hurt so badly that the only escape is to get lost into the unknown of those "what ifs" that give us the illusion of control.

What if I take this job, or what if we lose the house, or what if we make that move, or what if I get the raise, or what if I try this treatment.

We can live in fear and dread the unknown, assuring ourselves of the worst - or we can live in hope and see happiness ahead with Pollyanna eyes.

But neither of them are truly right.

Both are still guessing games of the unknown.

I'm learning how to fully live right in the middle of the hard, in the here and KNOWN, because if this is my life - if this is where I am at - then this is where God is at, too. And if I’m wasting all of my time and energy trying to control the unknown of the future rather than fulfilling what He may be needing from me right now, then I’m wasting God’s time as well.

It all boils down to this:
none of it is unknown to Him.

5 minutes: beauty

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo, aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Beauty…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

:::

Beauty has always been a tough subject for me, mostly because for so many years I didn't see what others did when they looked at me.

It's taken me a lot of years to finally really believe that. That what I saw when I looked in the mirror was distorted. The girl who was once 83 pounds and saw fat and ugly in the mirror… that girl didn't see what was really there. But it took until now for me to really realize it.

It took Cushing's - ugly, mean and cruel Cushing's -for me to know that even when I do look in the mirror and see my worst nightmare that I won't break.

I had gained 70 pounds in a short four months. I stretched and pulled in deformed ways. I looked in the mirror every day and couldn't even see my own self in my eyes anymore and I realized that's what I had always done… looked in a mirror not recognizing who was there.

And just like I had no control over gaining it, I've had no control over losing it. I have spent the last year so sick that I lost all of that weight and then some. And now I look in the mirror and I see someone I recognize. But I see more than just me.

I see the real me.

Not the me I was afraid of at 15, and not the one I was searching for a year ago. I see the me with the off-color of illness in my skin and the sometimes red blotchiness of flash rashes and the Cushing's striations on my body that will never leave and still sometimes hurt to touch and I'm not afraid of any of it.

They are my marks of survival.

Friends come and I put on the foundation and I apply the mascara, but it's more so they aren't scared and they don't worry about how sick I am.

For me now, on normal days when I am bare faced and facing the day, I just look in the mirror and see someone who is still surviving and living through it. And there is beauty in that. In surviving.

I get that now.

5 minutes: whole

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo, aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Whole…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

:::

Whole.

I have fought this word a lot in my life span of being sick. Because so many {truly well-meaning} people have used the word in order to tell me what I could be.

If I would just take another remedy.

If I would just pray a certain prayer.

If I would just… fill in the blank.

If I would just do any one of the magical things that they have just heard about from their aunt's cousin's mother, then I would be…

…wait for it…

WHOLE.

I couldn't figure out for the longest time that *that* was the part that was hurting me. That they were looking at my life and viewing it as something other than complete.

I was less than.

Less than perfect. Less than their idea of what I could be. Less than I was. Less than I should be.

It took a long time for me to sort through all of the noise and clutter of it all to realize that I am whole.

I am in pain, sick, frail, homebound, bedbound, without great possibility or potential in my future.

In all of that, I am whole. I am complete. I am exactly what God made me to be in the exact time He created me to be it.

My Uncle Barney is struggling with cancer, and it has changed and stripped his life. We talked a few weeks ago about his frustration of having talents his whole life that he can no longer use. And I told him that he used them when he was supposed to. And if those things were no longer in his abilities, then they were no longer what God wanted him to do.

Because he is perfect just as he is. He is whole. He is perfect in God's eyes and doing exactly what God needs from him in his life. Just by being himself.

I could speak those words to him because I had experienced those losses. And if all of my suffering was simply so that I could speak those words to an uncle I love when he needed to hear them, then this is worth it.

Because God made me as I am. To do exactly what I am doing.

And I am whole.

5 minutes: still

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo, aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Still…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

:::

Sometimes it amazes me the parallels these words Lisa Jo chooses can have on my life. And how much duality the words can have in their meaning for me.

Because for about an hour or so last night I was filled with stillness and antsy-ness all at the same time. I was on a conference call with most of my fellow (in)courage writers, and I was forced into stillness because I can't breathe and that makes my voice inaudible. And if you know me, not talking while on the phone is my own personal form of torture. :)

And while my breathing was still and my voice was gone, my body was anything but. So it silently screamed on the outside while the pain raged loudly in my ears. My limbs jerked and fingers ached, which only allowed me to type a sentence or two in our corresponding skype chat.

Which means I was only able to say hi and offer a tiny bit of encouragement in a room full of people I wanted to say so much to. I had to be still because my body was anything but.

This morning, however, as I opened up Lisa-Jo's page and saw "still" as the word of choice, the first thing that came to mind was this:

Be still and know that I am God.

And I wondered what He really meant by that for me. Because the "know that I am God" part totally changes the "be still" part for me.

I think in my world He's not telling me to slow down. I'm already at a standstill. I think He's telling me to let go. To let go of trying to be something I can't be. To let go of the idea that I can do anything about any of this.

I think He's telling me it's ok to be still in these situations because I'm not Him.

He's God and I'm not and so my job, while I hate the stillness and fight the stillness that is created because the pain in my body is anything but still, is simply to let it go.

To be still and let God be God and go with the flow.

Because he's God and I'm not.

What do you think He's saying to you?

5 minutes: full

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo, aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Full…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

:::

I was watching television the other day when a commercial for the Iowa Lottery came on. They showed people receiving these boxes at their homes that glowed with a bright white light and said, "DREAM" across the side.

The actors would jump and scream and run in the house yelling, "Honey! I got my dream!" and it was fun and exciting and it got me thinking…

What would be my dream?

And I realized, I don't have one. I don't have a tangible, money-driven dream that the Iowa Lottery would be able to deliver for me.

And I realized it's because I'm full.

I sat here for the longest time and tried to think of something I really needed. Or even something I wanted really badly. And I'm not saying this to be all holier-than-thou, but I really have everything I need. Even before I was gifted this bed for my birthday, the one thing I needed to be comfortable every day, I'm not sure I would have thought of it as a wish.

Because I just feel full.

I woke up this morning and Riley was waiting for my eyes to open so he could lay his head on my stomach and I could pet him until I could move. It was a moment of being truly full because I was needed and wanted and not alone.

I have a safe home and a comfortable place to lay my bones all day. I have friends who call and email. I have a community of people here who really see me. I have family members who love me and check in on me and I am full.

I have everything I need.

I worried about it for a minute… because we live in a world of goals and dreams and five year plans. But as much as I would like for some things to be different in my life, I think I like the lesson I've learned in the way my life turned out.

That God has given me everything I needed as I've needed it. And I am full.

5 minutes: loss

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo, aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Loss…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

Loss.

Sigh.

I didn't expect this a year later.

I knew it would be hard. I knew the anticipation was weighing on me. But I didn't expect for it to be visceral. I didn't expect for my body to feel in shock again, for the nausea to creep in. I expected sorrow, not grief.

But I felt grief again.

I have felt all week like I needed to reach my hands into my chest and hold up my heart for the weight of it. I missed my family and I missed the community and I missed my dad.

Oh, how I miss my dad.

And tonight as I'm writing this, tonight is one year exactly since his funeral. And I remember the moment my friend Kelly walked into my condo on that day, one year ago, to watch them bury my dad on a large screen that carried the skyped image of his casket in the church.

I remember saying to her that I hadn't forgotten. And she said, "No. Today is about your dad."

And I said, "No. We have enough love for both of them."

Because eight years ago today we had sat in a hospice room and said goodbye to her eleven-year-old daughter, Kaitlyn. I had sang to her, we had prayed over her, we had cried with her and then she was gone.

So tonight, as Lisa-Jo picked "loss" as our five minute prompt, I said "Yes."

Yes, today of all days, loss is heavy in my heart and fresh on my lips and quick on my fingers to type to you. And I grieve for us but I rejoice for them.

Because our loss is their joy as they bask in the bliss of His love.

But that doesn't stop us from the ache. From the loss. I wonder if it ever will.

5 minutes: grateful

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo, aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Grateful…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

It's what I've been thinking about tonight as I lay here with my thoughts. As I've rested here and thought about family gathering together at my parents' house to remember all that happened a year ago. As I think about losing my dad, as I think about not being with my family, as I think about my own life and what's ahead. As I try to peer into the unknown future trying to catch a glimpse of what I'm supposed to do and who I'm supposed to be.

In all of that, through all of that, every time I open my lips to speak to Him I can only speak of how grateful I am.

I am so grateful I have the dad I do. I'm so grateful that I was a young girl who grew up to know she was loved by her dad and never had to search for that love in anyone who didn't value her.

I am so grateful I have a dad who brought laughter into every single day and brought tenderness into every single hurt.

I am so grateful I have a dad who taught me faith by his example and taught me trust by the steps he took.

I am so grateful that my family is together to honor him and am so grateful that he will be remembered in their laughter and their tears and their memories.

I am so grateful that I know God well enough that I can trust His design for me even in a future that is beyond my sight, and I am so grateful that the same God knows me well enough to always provide exactly what I need exactly when I need it.

I am grateful for the blessings that always come out of pain. I am grateful for the people and the friendships and the soul-embracing moments that can only come from shared experience.

I have been given so much and I have treasured so much and I have lost so much.

And I am so grateful.

5 minutes: wonder

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday {only I'm writing it on a Monday :)} and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Wonder…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

Every time I see the word "wonder" a song starts wafting through my head…

{I wonder as I wander out under the sky
how Jesus, the Savior, did come for to die
for poor ornery people like you and like I.
I wonder as I wander
out under the sky.}

I think I love it so much because the words match the feeling of the tune so perfectly. The haunting soulfulness. The wanting. The wondering. They mystery of it all.

Wondering why in the world He came for us. Wondering how He could love us that much. Wondering why we are so worth it. Wondering what I am supposed to do for Him here on this earth to make His sacrifice mean something to someone else.

But I know we are supposed to wonder. Because while it all is a mystery – all of it seems to make no sense until the day we are with Him in heaven – we can't begin to do what He needs from us here until we open ourselves up to imagine it.

To wonder about it.

Because He sneaks our purpose into us in whispers. In the thoughts we have. In the longing in our souls. In those moments when we say,

"I wonder if I can…"

"I wonder if I should…"

"I wonder if it's possible…"

We have to pay attention to the moments of wonder so we don't miss the instruction to act.

Sometimes I wonder how I'm supposed to do any of that here, sick, in bed. What He has need of me to do. But I will keep coming here and we'll wonder about our lives in the hope that we're fulfilling the mystery a little bit each day.

Together.

5 minutes: home

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Home…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

I have lived in this condo since I was 29 years old. I haven't left it, ventured out, even open a window in years. It's where I am, where I will always be, and yet when someone says the word 'home' I don't think here.

I don't think anywhere, really. I think who.

Because my home rests in the hearts of people.

My home is with my mom as I think of her sitting on the porch outside her bedroom, sipping coffee and looking out over the beautiful landscape that nature created.

It's with my sister as I think of her busy in her kitchen, rushing to prepare something for Becca who is on the go, or organizing Thomas as he readies for college.

It's with my brother as I think of him sitting in his living room, helping Cooper with homework or listening to Avery as she tells him stories of her day.

It's with Shannon and the girls as they sit in the dance studio and practice for Nie Nie's solo competition, or in their living room as Yodi sketches and colors and dreams her own dreams.

Some days my home walks right into the condo, like it did today, when Tyler and Jonboy helped their grandma deliver groceries. Sweet Jonboy, who asked if he could do anything to help me. So he filled up my bird feeders and swept in the kitchen because his heart, my home, is filled with more love than it can hold.

It's with friends who are near and loved ones who are far. It's with people I've shared my life with but may never meet face to face, until we all go to our final Home.

Our Home in heaven where my Dad is this Father's Day. He is my home, his own heart so close to Jesus' I can almost feel both of them beating in mine, so close in my thoughts and so far from my touch.

My home is not here. It's not in a country or state or town or walls. It's in the hearts of the people I love.

And their home is in mine.

5 minutes: backwards

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Backwards…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

When my nephew Alex was a little boy, he was instantly athletic. He could throw a ball before he understood what it was. He never just dribbled, he dribbled and juked. His dad, my brother Jim, used to hold both of Alex's tiny feet in one hand and walk around with him like that. Alex would stand in his hand, straight as a pin. He was just born agile.

And then there was Anna. She was a year younger and could speak in sentences before she could walk in a straight line. She was a thinker. She was eloquent. And she was oh-so-proud when she was able to show us that she had a trick, too.

She stood up straight, held her arms out to steady herself like she was mastering a tightrope, and she walked backwards.

Oh, we ooohed and ahhhed and clapped and cheered. While Anna ended up being an incredible athlete herself, it's funny to remember it all started with taking a few steps back.

I feel like I've had the opposite story of Anna. She started slow and worked her way up… and I started fast and worked my way slow.

My 20th high school reunion is coming up this summer, and the girl who never missed a chance to participate is now the girl who can't go home. I was the girl who couldn't wait to tackle life, and now I'm the girl without the husband and kids and career and life that everyone brags about at these things.

Because my life went completely backwards.

But life isn't meant to be lived looking backwards in the rearview mirror, missing what was. Or lived looking forward on the sometimes scary what-could-be road ahead. Because the truth is that none of us can really control either one.

In the end, we just have to trust that He has His eyes on the big picture, and make sure that the life we're living in the here-and-now is filled with moments that matter.

5 minutes: every day

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Every day…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

Every day I awake to a sameness and the unexpected all at the same time.

I wake with the same intentions, the same goals, the same disease, the same feeling of wondering how I fill another day in the same position with the same issues.

And every day I face the unexpected. The changes in the intensity of pain and the areas of pain and the unknown side effects of pain. Every day I face the consistent schedule of taking my medications, but the unexpected schedule of what fills the in between moments.

The moments where I find out if goals can be met. The moments I may be able to type and return emails or I may not be able to do more than lay in one position and fight to rest while being too restless to sleep.

But all of those are externals. They are just what happens to me.

They are not me.

Because every day is also beautifully chosen.

In the midst of the aching sameness and the achingly unexpected of the external, is the beautifully constant of the internal. The things I choose.

The joy.

The bliss of a new room. The happy of a view that now includes birds and chipmunks and even pesky raccoons.

The joy of technology and friends at my fingertips, and the overflowing email inbox that I can't keep up with but can't live without the newness of every day hellos.

And every day I choose the one consistent internal ability that I know will never be taken from me.

The one that feels like my purpose.

The ability to love people by praying for them. Like clockwork I go through my people, I pray for them, I ache for them, I grieve with them, I rejoice with them. I faithfully pray for all of you here. Did you know that? I do.

And I praise Him through all of it.

Every day, in the sameness of good and bad, He is with me. I am never alone. I'm luckier than most because I trust that knowledge with every fiber of my being. Every day I get to be His and He always shows up.

He shows up in the joy and in the pain, in the fun and in the nausea. He shows up. Just for me. Which means every day is a good day. A joyful day. Because I choose Him.

Every single day.

And you can, too.

5 minutes: on forgetting

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "On forgetting…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

My friend Susie and I joke all the time that she has me as a friend so I can help her remember her life.

She has a horrible memory. I have a memory that is ridiculous. I seem to remember the dumbest, most insignificant things in vivid detail. There are times I can tell you not only that we had the conversation, but exactly where I was when she told me the story and what we were both wearing when she said it.

So I have appointed myself her memory keeper. I remind her of things about her kids, stories of us in college, anything that maybe has slipped her mind. And it's fun relaying the stories back to her because she gets tickled about the events all over again, like it's happening again for the first time.

I love that about us.

And even though my memory is good, the more tired I get and the more medication I am on, the more I worry that I'll forget the little things. The important things. Stories about how we grew up, stories about my friends, little details about my nieces and nephews… the things that matter. That's one of the reasons I love to blog, because this is the place I've written down the parts that matter.

It's where I've written my heart so no matter what happens to me and my life from here on out, I am on these pages. Anyone who has ever wanted to really know me can simply come here and see my heart. They'll know how I love, how much I love, who I love and in Who I believe.

I like to imagine that someday, if their memories are as bad as their mom's, Susie's boys will tell their kids about me and pull out these pages and share my story.

It's nice how that turned out. In my attempt to make sure I never forget, I've also ensured that I won't be forgotten.

It's like a labor of love come full circle.

5 minutes: when seasons change

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "When seasons change…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

I was just talking to a friend of mine this week about how the season change has been weird here in Iowa this year. None of us feel like summer is almost upon us… it's as if spring is just beginning to peek her head out from under the snow. My friends' kids aren't even counting down the last days of school – which is completely unheard of. But when the weather still feels like the end of March, it's hard to remember where we're at on the rotating calendar and that summer is fast approaching.

I think we rely on the familiar to gauge where we are in life. We rely on the same 2+2=4 mentality, and it throws us off when things don't add up like we're used to.

The weather not being the same, our schedules not following a normal pattern, health changing, losing loved ones, having kids, watching them graduate… these are all things that I have been through or watched loved ones go through this year.

And all of them have thrown us off. All of them have felt like moments not adding up. All of them have thrust us into seasons we may not have been ready for.

But the truth is, these moments have simply thrust us into another new normal to add to the constant new normals in our lives. And we have to be thrust into them because we so often long for sameness, and change would not always be our first option.

But weather changes and we learn to appreciate the blossoms and the warmth. Schedules alter and we learn to adapt and see beauty where we may have missed it if we hadn't altered course. Health declines and we adapt and find blessings in the most unexpected circumstances. Loved ones die and we find that mourning aches us to our core, but we learn to trust in God in a way we never knew possible. Babies are born and we learn to celebrate more than we fear, and as kids graduate we learn to let go and trust more than we worry.

The seasons will always change, sometimes at a different pace than we are expecting. But the joy and blessings are always within reach if we just put out our hands to receive them.

So remember to give thanks.

Even when the seasons change.

5 minutes: deep breath

As promised, here is my 5 minute Friday on a Monday!

::

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Deep Breath…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

Deep Breath immediately brings my mind to every Tuesday when my nurse, Tabitha, comes to see me. We talk and catch up and she takes out her stethoscope to listen to my lungs.

"Deep breath…" she utters, and I do my best to oblige.

"Diminished and wheezy…" are her next words and we both nod. All is fine, as that is my normal now that I am fused. My ribs can't expand and my chest never heaves, so diminished and wheezy is my status quo.

The bad days are when no breath sounds can be heard. That's when antibiotics usually come into play. :)

So, physically, deep breath has changed for me. My status quo isn't the same as yours.

But when I think of the calling of my spirit, I breathe much better. When I sit here at the computer to write and be with all of you, my spirit breathes deep and it is full and clear and robust.

I can check on the status of my spirit and I feel satisfied, as if I am doing what I am called to do.

How about you? Have you checked the status of your spirit lately? Can you breathe deep, or are you diminished and wheezy? Are you feeling stuck in a tight space, or are you free in the knowledge you are doing what you are called to do?

If you find yourself gasping, wheezing, less than full – can I make a suggestion?

Make a change somewhere in your life. I can't change my physical deep breath, but we all have the chance to change the fullness of our spirit.

It can be large or small. Change a job or simply add a hobby that brings joy to your existence. But start. Because we all have this one life to live, and we might as well breathe deep while we live it.

5 minutes: motherhood

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "Motherhood should come with…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

"Motherhood should come with" initially feels like a funny topic for me to write about. I mean, being a childless woman and all, I don't really have a clue.

So, I guess from my perspective, I think motherhood should come with a friend who is childless.

Why?

I think what a mom sometimes wants is for another person to love their child with extreme abandon. A person who doesn't put another child in front of their own as a measuring stick.

Because let's be realistic… every mother thinks no child could possibly be more amazing than her own child. And she's right. Every single mother is right about that. Every child needs a mother who thinks they hung the moon, and every one of those mothers needs someone who will say, "You're totally right. Your child *is* absolutely that amazing."

I get to be that person. And I love it.

When motherhood comes with a childless friend, you get to have someone to tell your woes to who won't tell you she has it worse with her own kids. You have someone to celebrate your child's accomplishment with, and the childless friend will think it's amazing because she has no frame of reference from which to judge it. You have someone you can share your concerns with and she won't tell you that you're overreacting, but instead hold your hand while you find out the answers.

Best of all, when you're a mother that comes with a childless friend, you have someone who will love your child with every inch of her heart. Completely. Because she won't have her own to trump that space.

I just want to say to all of my friends who are mothers…

You come with a cape to be your child's superhero. You come with a heart full of love that flows out onto your kids every day. You have a mind full of hope for who they can be in this world. You have a soul full of Jesus that pours into them so that whoever they do become will mirror Him.

I admire each and every one of you. I am in awe of you. And I'm so grateful that you let me be the childless friend you carry with you on your journey.

Because I wound up being the childless friend with a life full of children.

Thank you for that. It's been the joy of my life.

5 minutes: if I knew I could

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "If I knew I could, I would…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

If I knew I could, I would open a window and savor the breeze before walking out my sliding glass door and fully savoring the wind. I would turn my face to the sun and soak in its warmth and put my bare feet in wet grass and let them settle into the earth.

If I knew I could, I would sit at a lake with family and friends, have a barbeque, eat things with cheese and butter and have a drink and dance.

I would dance until I couldn't. And then I'd dance some more.

If I knew I could, I would sing. I would sing until my lungs burst from the pressure of the air and then I would go to another place, another home, another church, another wedding, another funeral and I would sing some more. I would look people in the eye and make sure my song connected to their soul.

If I knew I could, I would walk the walk to my dad's graveside and leave my tears there with my family's. I would tell him how sorry I was it took me so long and I would lay on the grass and just be with him again. I would do that if I could.

If I knew I could, I would spend the rest of my life sitting with friends. Loving them. Talking to them. Hugging them. Laughing with them and crying with them and celebrating and mourning. I would spend the rest of my life living my life in the presence of people, trying to be His presence to them.

If I knew I could, I would take poor Riley for a walk.

If I knew I could, I would write the book everyone says they want. I would feel well and healthy and not take a moment of actual energy for granted. I would live free of pain and headaches and nausea and weakness. And I would still come here to talk to you all, because it's where all my friends can meet at once.

If I knew I could, I would.

5 minutes: the hard love

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "The hard love…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

My Grandpa Gerald died this week. He's my dad's dad and no one told him during the past nine months that Dad went ahead of him to get heaven ready. And when Grandpa died I thought, "I hope Jesus is ok with swearing in heaven."

There are a couple reasons for that random thought. One, because I'm not sure I ever had a conversation with Grandpa when he didn't swear at some point [I get that trait from him :)]. And two, because I'm sure he saw Dad standing there waiting for him and said, "Mike, what in the hell are you doing here?"

What does that have to do with the prompt "the hard love"? Because without today, without Good Friday, there would be no meeting of the men I love in heaven.

Without today, without that brutal sacrifice born out of hard love for us, we would be flailing in the dark and alone in death.

Because no matter how much God loved His Son, he took the hard love instead of the easy for each one of us. He could have turned away and said it was too much. Most fathers would have, but He loved us as a Father, too. So He chose hard love for His son because of His love for you and me.

And no matter how scared Jesus was in that garden – scared enough that blood actually sweat from His pores – He took the hard love, the hard pain and the hard walk with that cross and let them put nails in His hands.

He did that for us. So my dad and my grandpa could laugh and hug and reminisce and even swear in heaven.

Jesus took every cruel word. Every cruel strap of the whip. Every fall and every stumble and every sweat bead of pain. He took the hard as a human man because He loved us.

Hard.

5 minutes: on distance

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "On distance…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

Distance. It's such a relative term to me right now.

When I read what Lisa Jo's prompt was a few minutes ago, the first thing I did was look above my computer to a photo of the Shan Clan hanging on my wall and thought, "I hate distance."

Because I know I will only see them maybe twice a year since they live so far away. And my heart aches from missing them. Which is not a complaint… because missing someone means you have the privilege of loving them, and there's no way I'll complain about that. I'm just grateful they make such huge efforts for me.

And then I realized that there are people right here in town that I ache for, too. Friends who I love beyond reason who I only see maybe twice a year because I have to live in this bubble. Because they work around sick people or someone in their family has the sniffles at various times and it means I never get to let them in my house.

Sickness makes distance relative in my world.

And then I thought of my brother's family who, despite distance, used to stop by to see me every single time they took the trip home to Mom and Dad's. I only see them once or twice a year now, too... not because they don't want to stop by on their way home, but because illness means they have to keep driving. And I hear the pain in their voices because they ache for me like I ache for them.

Right outside my doorstep might as well be Tennessee. The distance is relative in this world I live in. One step is as insurmountable as 1000 miles.

And all of those thoughts, like everything these days, brings me to Dad. The distance is insurmountable. I've had so many people from his life tell me they feel him so close now that he's gone, but I have to be honest. He feels so incredibly far away to me. So out of reach. So missing.

But I know that distance is relative, too. And I pray that all this time we are away from each other is different for him. I hope, like the distance in mine, time is relative in his world so when we meet again it will only have felt like a moment to him.

Because, like everyone in my life, as far away as he is, I hold him so close.

5 minutes: if you met me

Since I missed it on Friday, I thought today I'd give Lisa-Jo's 5 minute prompt a go today. 

To refresh your memory, she chooses a topic and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "If you met me…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

If you met me, I honestly don't know what you'd think. Mostly because I don't know what you'd expect.

Would you expect me to wax poetically about God and life? Or be sarcastic and funny? Would you expect me to be loud or quiet? Would you expect me to sound like I write?

Which makes me wonder if I *do* sound like I write. I think so, but I don't think I'm probably the best judge of that. I always said I should have Susie guest post on here and give you guys the chance to ask her questions about me, because she'd be able to tell you about me better than I can. :)

I think I'm not always the best judge because I still think I am who I used to be. And I'm not entirely. I still think of myself as the loud girl who livens up a party and is the first one on the dance floor.

And considering my breathing doesn't allow enough air for me to be loud and my body doesn't allow me enough movement to dance, neither of those is true.

But if you met me, I think the essence of that girl would still be there. I would still be thrilled to see you. I'd be thrilled to talk with you and find out what makes you happy and sad … what makes you tick. I wouldn't care what we talked about. You could brag about your kids or tell me about a show you just saw or tell me your deepest, darkest secret and I would be equally interested because it would be what you needed to talk about in that moment.

And that's what would matter to me.

Mostly, if you met me… if you came here to the condo I affectionately term "Gitzapalooza"… I would want to make sure you came feeling welcomed and loved. And that you left feeling more filled up than when you came.

How that happens doesn't matter so much to me. What we talk about or do to make that happen doesn't matter so much to me. It just matters that you're filled.

5 minutes: favorite things

Today I'm linking up to Lisa-Jo aka gypsy mama, who chooses a topic every Friday and writes for five minutes.

Only five minutes.

And the rule is that whatever she writes about in that five minutes is what she posts. No editing her thoughts.

Today, her topic choice is "A few of my favorite things…"

So I'm going to set the timer, write some thoughts, and then I'm going to stop.

Ready? Set. Go.

::

"A few of my favorite things…"

Oh, please tell me you are all singing the song in your head right now… the strong voice of Julie Andrews that I pretended to have as I pretended to be her while singing along. We watched it every year, that and The Wizard of Oz, around the holidays. Dad said it was his favorite and he could listen to Edelweiss over and over.

He couldn't sing worth anything, but I think he imagined he could sing that song.

I'm not a person who is very good at picking favorites… I can never choose just one thing. I couldn't even choose a favorite stuffed animal when I was little [although Sugar the Bear really was at the top of the heap] because I was so afraid I'd hurt the feelings of the other stuffed menagerie that filled my bed. Favorites are hard when you assign emotions to even the most inanimate of objects.

My favorites now are still as plentiful. It's Riley laying his head on my arm and letting out a sigh of contentment, reminding me I am his only concern. It's the two rings of the phone before hanging up that Susie does to let me know she's calling and I should call her back if I feel well enough. It's the doorbell sound of the texting machine alerting me to a friend checking in, and the ding of the iPad saying another email from one of you is awaiting me when I'm ready.

It's Skyping with Shan so I can catch up with her in between Nie Nie telling me the latest and Yodi  displaying her missing tooth. It's Tyler standing outside my window so I can see his Taekwondo kick or Miss Anna crying to her mom that she feels like she belongs here at the condo and never wants to leave. It's a nephew emailing that he loves me around the world and back and it's my sister doing whatever it takes to make me feel like I'm a part of their world, no matter how far away they are.

It's the moments.

So, I guess I can choose. Moments are my favorite things. Moments can't be taken away or broken or replaced. They can only be given. Moments are now officially my favorite things.

I guess it just took a few moments of writing to figure that out. :)