Come and get your #FiveMinuteFriday on! <–Click to Tweet this

This is where a brave and beautiful bunch gather every week to find out what comes out when we all spend five minutes writing on the same topic and then sharing ’em over here.

How to Join:

Want to know how Five Minute Friday got started and how to participate? All the details are here.

Featured Five Minute Friday:

And every week I’ll pick a post that caught my eye and share it down there in my side bar – see where it says “Featured #FiveMinuteFriday”? Yea -that could be you! Hop on over and visit some folk who make fireworks in just five minutes. They inspire me.

Share a Five Minute Friday Testimony:

And if you’ve got a #FiveMinuteFriday testimony you want to share with us? Email me. Every now and again I like to share the stories of how #FiveMinuteFriday has impacted folks. I’m always amazed to hear them.

Now, set your timer, clear your head, for five minutes of free writing without worrying about getting it right.

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

Oh and Ahem, if you would take pity and turn off comment verification, it would make leaving some love on your post that much easier for folks!

OK, are you ready? Please give us your best five minutes on:::

Ordinary…

GO

It’s the default that runs through my head when I’m tired or worried or under a mountain of deadline. How ordinary I am. How small and incapable and full of the run-of-the-mill narrative that a hundred hundred mothers have all shared before me. I have a burn mark on my forehead from the curling iron and didn’t grab a belt when I snuck out in the pre-baby awake darkness this morning so my jeans keep needing to be hitched up.

I left all the make up at home.

And my reflection in the rest room mirror tells me that I’m not the 26 year old that lives on the inside anymore. My oustide is a very ordinary car pooling minivan driving mom and I wonder if my stories are necessary. My friend Christie writes about bread and paint colors and gardening and motherhood and I hear God.

I clean the kitchen late at night and I see Annie’s art print – Be Small. Hidden there behind the stack of apples and not-yet-ripe nectarines. It’s a blessing. Be small. I exhale. My smallness, my ordinary makes room for something else. For someone else. For the Spirit of God to sigh through me and change me and I keep coming back to the keyboard because He writes me stories and I am compelled to share them.

Crazy bangs, burned forehead, old sneakers with the comfortable hole in the toe and all.

STOP

{Speaking of great words, one of my dearest friends, Holley Gerth, has an amazing book that releases today. Anyone who dreams of being a writer (or has any big dream for that matter) should read You’re Made for a God-Sized Dream. Seriously.}



 

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