Category Archives: WritingPrompts

Love, Beautifully Painted

 

Just Five Minutes to let the words flow. No over-thinking, no backtracking, no agenda. Just our thoughts on a given word. I need this now and then, and I’m so thankful that there’s a whole community of friends who need this right along with me…
Five Minute Friday
This week the word is Graceful…
She chooses her words carefully. She knows how the tongue can revive a dying soul, and she reaches for the words that bring life. There is no judgment in her tone, only grace. Her own scars are deep and she recalls the lies that left her feeling empty. Words spoken without thought, forever etched into her memory. The insecurities she was forced to battle with for so many years.  
Aren’t we all like an empty canvas seeking beauty? Waiting for a masterpiece to be painted upon our hearts? And the vandal spreads lies across this work in progress, but she would not do the same. With precision she chooses to paint love into my life. Intently she seeks to recall His Word, full of grace and truth.  And she speaks it with delicate timing, never hastily, never harshly.

The words flow out smooth, and soft, and sincere, as if they are read directly from the page, but I see the passion behind her closed eyes; she means every word.  To me, she is more graceful than the ballerina, more beautiful than the fair maiden. She is a conveyer of life, and forever my example.

Shared from my heart ~ Stacy

Full Fridays Are My Favorite

 

Will you join me for another Five Minute Friday over at Lisa Jo’s “The Gypsy Mama”? “Around here we write for five minutes flat on Fridays. We try to remember what it was like to just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.”

The word this week… Empty


An early morning today, I Tiptoe down the stairs while it is still dark hoping for some time with the Lord before the littles wake up. My heart has lately felt a bit empty and I’m desperate for Him to fill me with his Word. I start the fire and drag my tired feet toward the kitchen where my hubby and his servant’s heart have prepared the coffee before heading off to work. I whisper a silent thank you in my mind and fill my cup with a perfect mixture of coffee and creme brulee, then I walk to the sofa next to the fire and open my Bible. 


“So shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; It shall not return to Me void, But it shall accomplish what I please, And it shall prosper [in the thing] for which I sent it.” Isaiah 55:11


God always speaks with such appropriate timing, and my morning spent with Him is so sweet. All the aching empty places are soothed and tears of praise are released. A little one soon joins me, snuggled up beside me with his Beginner’s Bible, reading quietly except for an occasional “what’s this word Mom?” I can smile and help him sound it out because I am no longer depleted, but ready to pour out. My coffee cup is empty, but my heart is full.


Your turn. Click over to The Gypsy Mama and give us your best 5 minutes on Empty

Gratefully Awake

Awake

Music begins playing faintly from the bedside table and I know it is my cue to awaken and start the day, but my body does not want to cooperate. I’m contentedly snuggled into my warm wooly blanket and tempted to keep on dreaming, but I drag myself from my comfortable bed and aim my feet in the direction of coffee. My early bird is waiting with excited anticipation for my door to open. He has been playing quietly by himself, anxious for someone to join him. I am greeted with hugs and smiles and “Can I wake up my brothers?” It’s a school morning. “Yes, let’s do.” But even with the sunlight allowed to flood the room and a “Good morning!” greeting, my night owl is far from awake. I shake his feet and pat his back. “Time to get up.” But he rolls over and pulls the covers over his head. He is like his momma. Coffee will be his friend some day. Beds made, teeth brushed. Another day set before us. A posse of 8 stomping feet come bounding down the stairs, racing for the breakfast table. God’s blessings in the form of noise makers and egg devourers. The joy of my calling. My gifts, who persuade me to embrace another day and cause me to be gratefully awake.