Writing is like a mirror, we see ourselves best in what we’ve written. ~{click to tweet}

Every Friday for nearly three years writers have gathered here for a kind of free write flash mob. We all spend five minutes writing on the same topic for just five minutes. And then we link up over here. {This is a bunch of us one time we happened to be together}.


How to Join:

Want to know how Five Minute Friday got started and how to participate? All the details are here. And if you don’t have a blog, you’re very welcome to just leave your five minutes of writing in the comments.

Meet the #FMFParty Writers:

And did you know there’s a whole community of writers that connect online before the prompt goes live on Friday nights? They use the Twitter hashtag #FMFParty and are about the most encouraging group around.

It’s for newbies and old-timers, it’s for the broken-hearted and rejected, it’s for the lost and found. This community who opens wide its arms to everyone as they write, think, dream.

In the words of Tonya,

To me Five Minute Friday is about digging down into the depths of ourselves and coming with vulnerability cupped in our open palms.  An offering that echoes ancient and holy, a communion of life that scales walls and pretenses.  It’s about unveiling wounds and hurts that we have covered for far too long and allowing sisterhood to trace the edges of our pain.  Five Minute Friday is about not agonizing over what people will think of your writing, and more about letting your soul bleed for five minutes flat, pixelated wonder that gives more than receives.

And this week Tonya and Andi and Sarah ended up in the same spot at the same time and got to meet in person. Crazy, beautiful world this Internet:

Five Minute Friday in real life

Four months ago I had no clue about Five Minute Friday. Two of my in real life friends let me in on this goldmine of a community. I’m an all or nothing kind of girl. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sit quietly on the sidelines reading others’ posts and not participate. I jumped in. After neglecting my blog completely last year, and only writing a handful of posts this year, I began to write again. And I found myself among a unique and beautiful community.

This online community is breathtakingly beautiful. But nothing compares to when we are able to step away from the keyboard and hug a living, breathing, God-filled friend. This month God blessed me big time. I was able to meet Sarah. We sat with no screens between us, watching our children play together, and strengthening this friendship God has orchestrated. And if that wasn’t enough for my soul He blessed me again.

I received a notification on Twitter from Tonya. She was at a nearby restaurant. We are about 2 hours and one country border crossing away from each other. And in that moment she was only 10 minutes away. How could that not be a gift from God?! I kissed my sweet family good bye, jumped in the van and impatiently made the 6 mile drive. I parked, walked in, scanned the tables and we locked eyes. She jumped up and we hugged and hugged and hugged. {You guys, she gives awesome hugs!} Happy tears filling our eyes we sat and talked for a good 20 minutes before we hugged again knowing we will see each other soon.

Now, set your timer friends, clear your head, for five minutes of free writing without worrying about getting it right. These are your people. The poets, the mothers, the bloggers, the writers, the pencil and paper artists. Let’s do 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. 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..

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



It was the last time I hated being built for children. The last time I felt alone. The last time I wondered about grace and how to make sense of so many dots scattered between South Africa, the States and kingdom come. It was the last time I doubted my own strength to deliver, to push, to labor, to make new life.

The last time I would worry about embarrassment, size, figure, shape, the curve of a hip.

The last time I would be intimidated by Home Depot or the gym or algebra.

The last time I would think my body lame, or useless or too this, that or the other thing.

The last time I would think impossible thoughts about doing the impossible deed. The last time I would be scared of becoming someone’s mother.

The last time, Jackson, was the first time I met you.

Eight years ago today.

Eight years of whispered love notes and crazy hugs, high fives and wild dives off that board at the pool that used to scare you so. Eight years of those glasses and eyes so blue I can almost see myself reflected in them.

Eight years of growing into this mother’s skin and knowing you were the beginning.

Eight years.

And the blink of an eye.


Don’t have a blog? No worries, feel free to leave your five minutes in the comments. If you’re reading in an email just click here to come and join us.