Five minute Friday was born out of my desire to paint with words without worrying about staying inside the lines.

My friend, Sara, joined me on the journey. She’s the one who designed our Five Minute Friday button on the right hand side bar.

On days when I haven’t quite felt like getting my five minutes on, I have anyway because I knew Sara was waiting up for them. And her’s were always the ones I read first. She’s a friend and a fellow (in)courage writer.

She’s been sick for quite a long time. So we skyped her into our Hilton Head retreat so that she’d get to be at the beach with us – even if only for a moment.

We found out this week that Sara is dying.

It has been terrible. But, here’s the thing. We believe that dying’s not the end. We believe that Jesus is waiting there to tell her well done on a mighty race incredibly, bravely run.

And I am certain that Sara knows exactly where she’s headed. On June 17 she wrote a Five Minute Friday post with the rest of us on the prompt, “Home.” Never was a topic or a post more compelling.

This week is for Sara – taking the prompt from her life’s commitment – to choose joy, no matter the circumstances.

Won’t you link up with us?

    1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
    2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
    3. Go a little overboard encouraging the writer who linked up before you.

OK, are you ready? Give me your best five minutes on:

Joy…

Start:

There’s a place where heaven meets earth.

Some think it’s where the waves and their sandy shore connect with the blue sky above. Last week I thought so too.

This week I remember it’s in labor wards and the hands of hospice workers the world over.

Heaven meets earth there behind the thin veil of birth and death when we catch glimpses of the God who is human maker and home taker, who is unconfined by time, disease or death, who breathes Himself into our flesh and blood and then calls that breath back to Him again.

He speaks words and the world takes shape.

He knows us by name.

And in the fullness of time He speaks each of our names and calls us home. We wade across the Jordan with Him – hand held tight by that rough Carpenter’s grip. He will not let us sink or stumble or lose our footing as we cross.

For some I think that heaven leans as close across the divide as it can – to get a better look at the saint on her way home. Perhaps they press into the cracks that separate this place from that. A chorus of welcome builds and when she sets sandy foot out onto the welcoming far shore a mighty cheer of joy shakes that place.

This week, I think I heard echoes of it already.

STOP

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{Photos thanks to Dawn}

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