On Fridays over here a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.

Your words. This shared feast.

If you have five minutes, we double dog dare you to spend it writing here <—click to tweet this!

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments.

OK, are you ready? The Gypsy Mama Facebook late night crew is my new muse come 10pm Thursday night, so please give me your best five minutes on their choice:





The house is too small, too cramped, too old. The kids are to loud, too rowdy, too dirty. The floor is too sticky tacky, the fridge is too loud, the carpets are too stained.

The playroom is too chaotic, the desk is too cramped, the walls are too scarred.

The dog is too loud, too messy, too much extra time in the day and the way of one more constant need for attention and draw on limited reserves of hands on affection.

The love is too big, the bricks too limited to wrap arms around it. The kids are a comet through this heart and they burn up the yard, the deck and my grin as they power by. Up and over and inside me, I open it all to make room.

The floor tells a love story to small boys who want to help clean and the fridge hums merrily with enough sippy yogurts to float an entire preschool class all the way to merry go rounds of delight.

The toys dance and the kids delight and the music pounds us a serenade of baby feet. Walls whisper secrets from full days and little sisters who play chase over and under each block and each basketball hoop. There is no slow setting.

Micah learns patience from a puppy and I learn to see new sides of the God who made this everything and declared it good.

So much good.

My hands can’t hold it.


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I think motherhood should come with a super hero cape and a cheerleader.
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