10 Jan 2014

Five Minute Friday: See

Fridays are pizza for dinner days.

Fridays are leave the dishes, break out the paper plates nights.

Fridays are forget the laundry, curl up with a good movie evenings.

Fridays are write for just five minutes and forget the voices of fear that tell you you’re not a writer days.

How to Join:

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

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.

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..

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




He’s been away from school three weeks and I ask him late one night when he’s already curled up in the top bunk what it’s like to be back. He rolls over and props himself up on one elbow, looks me square in the eyes. “They told me that my team isn’t good anymore,” and it’s not what I expected to hear.

“Your team? What? I mean, didn’t you tell them about how we went to the Lion Reserve and about going camping and swimming down those rapids? Didn’t you tell them that part.”

His eyes are intent and he props himself up straighter, like I’m the one who needs to really get it.

“They don’t care about that, mom.”

And I’m not sure what to say. I feel like maybe I’m eight and I want to let go a big long old “Whhhyyyy?”

He tilts his head to the side, tells me, “Mom, here’s the thing. If he went to Africa he would want to talk about it a lot. But he didn’t. So he doesn’t care. He only sees the things he cares about.”

“Oh,” I say. Just oh.

And it lingers there between us. What he is now old enough to see.

I reach up and rub my fingers through his short hair. He wore the hat his uncle gave him the entire three weeks we were there.

But he didn’t miss a thing.


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.


{ Leave a Comment }
  1. 1

    That moment when it appears as if they have grown up right before your very eyes… long before they ever should. Yeah. That one.

    PS… so happy to be back with my tribe. I don’t even think I knew how much I missed it!!! {hugs}

  2. 2

    Oh, Lisa,
    that growing up they do when they begin to see certain things…He looks quite handsome in his hat…Thanks for hosting…I’ve missed FMF….Happy New Year :)

  3. 3

    I see you in my mind’s eye. The way you looked as they whisked you away to a waiting plane, to a different city, your tiny body, tubes and wires everywhere. 
    I see you in my mind’s eye. So tiny and helpless, in the incubator, ventilator keeping you alive.
    I see you in my mind’s eye. Swaddled and in my arms, as you took your last breaths.
    I see you in my mind’s eye. Yellow blanket, tiny blue hat, white coffin.
    25 years later, I still see you in my mind’s eye.

    • 4

      Dear Patricia ~

      I see her in my mind’s eye, running through green pastures and by still waters,
      Perhaps by your little one?
      I see her in my mind’s eye, perfect body, but perfectly silent at 36 weeks gestation.
      I see her in my mind’s eye, unmoving chest, never rising to take a breath – but knowing her first breath was in heaven.
      I see her in my mind’s eye, the white coffin I wanted to unbury from under the cold winter snow, but know she is warm in Jesus presence.
      Yes, I see with you, Patricia, precious little ones we miss so much here,
      But I see too, Jesus wiping our tears away, for forever.
      Yes, I miss too, almost 16 years, but 16 years closer to heaven.

      {{{hugs}}} from another mama with children in heaven

  4. 5

    what I see are two little boys climbing everywhere and doing everything their father doesn’t want to see.
    he doesn’t want to see the defiance
    he doesn’t want to see the language.
    he doesn’t want to see what he was not allowed to do as a child
    I see
    things I want to change
    things I want to encourage
    things I want to DO
    and then we all see
    together we’re looking at what we have
    and when the ingredients come out for a beautiful ‘cake’ that is mostly oats and oat flour with a tiny bit of honey, cooked in our toaster oven because our oven is 3 years dead, and working with a ‘hey don’t forget to check your cake’ and … and…
    we see
    my friends see…and they don’t
    they see the 3 year dead oven and don’t see the reasons…
    they hear the cake story and don’t see the miracle
    my six year old is BAKING A CAKE by himself, with a little help on the hot end of the scale
    something I was never allowed, encouraged, wanted, needed to do in my childhood
    and the wooden kitchen itself stands under boxes and baskets and stuff unused
    while the real one gets passed up for a toaster oven in an unheated dining room with snow in the doorway and a small path to the oven.
    5 minutes not up, but the baby IS awake!

    • 6

      I love this. I’ve been challenged this year too to allow my kids to do the things that sometimes seem “unsafe” – to invite them into grown up tasks and gift them with trust and help and supervision but also the freedom to fail. Thank you for sharing this one.

  5. 7

    Such truth from a young man – ‘He only sees the things he cares about’. Just like us, Lord help us all.

    Love you Mrs Baker.

  6. 8

    What a wise kid! I’ve often felt that way as a missionary traveling back home for visits. Some people are genuinely interested in what it’s like in South Africa, but others just ask to be polite. I suppose it’s true in much of life, isn’t it? Once you’ve lost your mother, you can ‘see’ into the hearts of others who have experienced the same. If you haven’t, you still care, but don’t quite see it in all its ugly fullness. The same could be said for countless life experiences. To God be the glory for what He has allowed us to see, and for what He hasn’t.

  7. 9

    What a bittersweet moment when our little ones grow up enough to understand that others don’t always want to see from their perspective. The challenge of protecting their hearts and encouraging them to want to see the things important to their friends. Thanks for sharing this story as a reminder.

  8. 10
  9. 11

    Sometimes, when you least expect it, you see.

    Love this prompt.

  10. 12

    As my boys grow, I miss the most how they used to “see” life and the words they used to express it:) Love how your boy sees – love the opportunity to “see” that kind of conversation again!

  11. 13

    Five minute Friday – SEE

    When you love more, you see more.
    It doesn’t happen this way by accident. In fact, it doesn’t happen at all unless you have eyes and you know that these eyes are not really seeing. My eyesight – it keeps changing. Even when I think I’m seeing OK, something will suddenly appear and blind me with a clearer understanding of how clouded my vision has really been. I think I have a great understanding, but I really have a great misunderstanding of self. This self is too big in my sight most of the time – and God is way out in the lofty clouds. My eyes play tricks on me. Why does it so often turn out that the clouds are really right here in front of me?

    When I love more, I see more.
    When I love me, I don’t see much but me.

    When I love others, I enlarge my vision. I begin to see that there is a horizon – a whole landscape of living stones standing strong with me. I see their heartaches, and my heart enlarges. My eyes get washed and cleaned when I see the suffering of the saints. The speck in my eye – the speck that was me – I get smaller and smaller.

    When I love more, I see more.
    And the more I see, the more I want to love.
    Love sees more.
    Lord, help me love more.
    I want to see.

  12. 14
    mary mccauley says:

    How often do we “look” but don’t see? We take for granted the sunrise, the sunset, the snow on the trees. We don’t really see it, because we are too busy. But if we stop to see, to really see, we are reminded of the ONE who sees us. The ONE who created all of this and holds it all in place and sees the very details of our lives and LOVES us.
    I have been blessed to see many parts of America in the last two years from my seat in the semi my hubby drives. I have seen the sky, and felt God looking down. I have seen rainbows and been reminded of God’s promises. I have seen mountains and rivers, valleys and plains. I have seen three seasons of planting and harvest, summer and winter, spring and fall, all just as the ONE created them to be.
    I am so glad HE has given me this opportunity to see these things. In them I see Him, I feel Him, I draw closer to Him and I stand amazed that the ONE who created all of this and keeps it working so smoothly SEES ME and LOVES ME. That’s my five minutes on see. thank you!

    • 15

      Mary – What a great reminder! It’s amazing how long I can go without experiencing the beauty He has created and when I finally take a moment to take in the wonder of his creation, I kick myself for waiting so long! It’s always a fabulous re-SET for my heart and emotions!

  13. 16

    My world has shrunk down to the walls of this cubicle with its flashing computer screens, the mountains of laundry always sneering at me and the one more school lunch that must be made…sigh! Day in and day out, I shuffle to keep up, expectation and guilt weighing me down. Before I know it, days, months, years have passed me by and I haven’t stopped a moment to smell the roses of my life.

    The revelation is both utterly discouraging and freeing, all at the same time. My life is not over, I still have time to see the beauty of this gift that God as given me. To appreciate the scent of my little boys — before they turn into big boys and don’t smell so nice. To appreciate the hard times with my preteen daughter and see, even when she can’t, the beautiful creature that she is and is becoming.

    I choose to step back from the drudgery of this life and the expectations that bury my soul and breathe deeply of this gift of life. I choose to see the beauty in the arguments and frustrations and unexpected cuddles and whispers! This life is mine, and I don’t want to miss a single minute.

    Goodbye death by expectation and drudgery. Welcome new vision and anticipation for the wonders of today!

  14. 17

    What a wise boy you have.

  15. 18


    Seeing has many dimensions and vehicles. The primary means is via our eyes but what we see physically and be internalized and make a lasting difference in our thinking and acting. Just as I can see, I may also be blinded. Busyness, defenses, prejudice, entrenchments can all detract from or eliminate what I’m capable of seeing. Today I’m choosing to see on a multitude of levels. May what I take in with my eyes be reflected in my life.

  16. 19

    This is my first time to participate in the FMF. I come each week wanting to, but leave because I don’t have enough courage. This time it was clear what I needed to write about so I took the plunge. Thank you for this challenge. I love your blog!

  17. 20

    My kids are the very best teachers on how to truly see. Love this prompt!

  18. 21

    I see that you have a wise young man and are a good listener. I love these “window moments” when our children share their hearts, mind, and a bit of their souls with us. Both are blessed to have the other!

  19. 22

    They don’t see the traffic and the snow I had to fight through to pick them up before childcare deadlines. They don’t see how unimportant I feel at work plugging away and wondering if the time I am spending away from them even matters. They don’t see the weight of the world on my shoulders. They just see their Mommy walking through the doors to pick them up from their own long day of school, play and big drama with friends. They want to go home where they will spend time with their parents where they will feel safe and loved. So when I release a “hurry up and get in the car its cold” or start snapping our to do’s for the evening. Homework, picking up messes from the morning we left behind, eating dinner, baths…”no I don’t want to hear your excuses”. They have to struggle through reconciling their anticipation of comfort with this unkind woman in the front seat. I wish I could go back to yesterday so they could see that I would rather spend my time with them than the people I work with or the time I spend in traffic mulling over all the things I don’t do well, like snapping at them when it has nothing to do with them.

    • 23
      Diane Torres says:

      Lindsey, I’ve been there and I understand the struggles you go through, but you love your children and they know it. We can’t change yesterday but we can make a difference today. Give them an extra hug. Leave the dishes for now and play a game or read a book or just goof around and make silly faces. You are a child of God and He understands your feelings and struggles. He is so good and He loves you. “Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” 1 Corinthians 13:7

      Peace Sister.

  20. 24

    Oh LisaJo….I have no idea why this post just pierces my heart. I suppose it’s because my boy is nearing 10 and the “real” world is quickly pushing it’s way into his life. But I have choked back tears for the fleeting youth of our boys. (Certainly if I wasn’t at work tears would be flowing.)

    Bless you and your sweet boy!

  21. 25

    I read many of the posts, but honestly have nothing to say sometimes. I’m sure an emoticon and “great post” gets very old to my fellow FMF ladies after a while. Any suggestions?

  22. 26

    Life creeps into their thinking in ways that take us completely by surprise sometimes, doesn’t it? I love that he shares that with you, Lisa-Jo. That his mama is still part of his “home team” and that he can open up and share the truths that he gets from this life. I love that part of being a mama so very much. Oh, how I do.

  23. 27

    Oh mercy… the first time anyone is less than wonderful to my little Boy I’m going to want to wallop them. This mama-ing just changes with the seasons, doesn’t it. Not getting easier or harder, necessarily, but ever different. Grateful to have you to look at for my next stages =)

  24. 28
    Diane Torres says:

    See that girl over there with the auburn hair and blue eyes? See how she smiles when she steps into the sun? See how that little one over there smiles at his Momma after shooting a bulls eye with his new bow and arrow? See how the littlest of them all smiles up at his Momma and brother and sister from behind a big digger and a pile of dirt?

    These are the things that make me smile. These are the gifts I see every day. We can’t take the gift of sight for granted. But do we only smile at what we see with our human eyes, or do you smile at the things you see with your heart and soul?

    I smile as I stand outside in the gently falling snowfall. I feel God’s presence, grace and peace surround me. I see Him all around me in the quiet of the woods, in the deer grazing in the pasture, in the sunset or sunrise, in the beauty of the mountains surrounding the lake I cross every day.

    I see God’s love in the people I meet each and every day. I see the opportunities God presents to me to share His love with others and help them to know and see God’s love as well. God’s hands touch everything around me. I see Him everywhere, but especially in the smiles and tears and hugs and kisses and snuggle time with my children. I see Him in my 17 yo daughter’s eyes as she prepares to graduate HS and move on to her next journey in the Navy. I see Him surround all of us with love, laughter and protection. I see God in our lives. What do you see?

  25. 29

    Ooh. It breaks my heart to watch them grow up. But it brings the wonderfulness of seeing a growing-up little man. The irony!

  26. 30

    This was my first FMF and I feel so empowered after completing it and hitting publish. This is some strong medicine Lisa-Jo. Strong medicine indeed.

  27. 31

    This is my first FMF. Wonderful stuff. Not sure I’m doing the posting right here on the blog — but here’s a link to my post: http://motherlogue.wordpress.com/2014/01/10/five-minute-friday-see/

  28. 32

    Your boy… how perceptive he is and what a harsh reality he’s encountering so young. Bless his heart. And yours, Lisa-Jo. What a precious, profound moment. Thanks for sharing this with us. Really.

    Okay, and actually, it reminds me of when I went on missions trips — full, summer-long trips, one to Haiti and one to Kenya — when I was 16 and 17. And how all I wanted to talk about were my experiences and how quickly people tired of hearing. I felt so alone.

    And it was in the alone-ness after that second trip, when no one understood my experiences, how I’d been changed, that I think I first began to experience intimate friendship with Jesus. He was the only one who “got” it. He became so real to me in that season. More profoundly so than ever before.

    Anyway – just couldn’t help but share. Your post triggered a memory I hadn’t thought of in maybe over a decade. Of how Jesus is good in the midst of not being seen. He sees. I pray your sweet boy experiences that – that being seen by Him.

  29. 33

    What an astute observation from such a little bit. As one who’s been on a few longish short term missions trips, I can totally relate to his observation.

  30. 34
    Gloria Phifer says:

    What a perceptive boy. Able to “see” the truth. All of our children are grown and all of our grandchildren are in their 20’s or close to that. We have one granddaughter who is 4 years old.

    I miss the words when they were little…write them down so you can remember all of them…


  31. 35

    Her baby blue eyes glass over as she waits in the grocery store line
    She breaths in, willing the tears not to fall
    Her grocery trolley has all the “normal” items, breakfast cereal, milk, bread, chocolate
    Nobody looking from the outside could see her heart breaking…. If only they could see
    The checkout lady takes her time zip, zip, zip
    A single tear falls betrayingly down her check
    The lady behind her enquires about the load in her trolley “and how many children do you have?”
    A stock standed question she just needs to answer the stock standed answer
    Either way her soul will pay “four children, actually three my baby just recently passed away”
    The lady chocks and stumbles, ” oh, never mind dear three children is enough and will keep your hands full”
    Her hands were full, they were full of life and everything good
    The checkout lady takes her money, emotionless
    The lady behind starts looking busy
    her baby blue eyes cascade of waterfall tears in the shopping center car park

    • 36

      Alana, this story breaks my heart. It is beautifully written. I am not sure if you are the woman with the baby blue eyes, but in any case… I know there is nothing I could say. Thank you for sharing your heart. I will be praying for you.

  32. 37

    This is my first FMF. :)


    I see the little girl with tears in her eyes.

    I see my son with hopeful eyes when he asks me to play a video game with him.

    I see my baby’s face as I leave him at daycare evry day.

    I see my own need and desire, unfulfilled.

    I see hurt.

    I see trouble.

    But mostly…

    Other people need us to see.

    To see their hurts.

    Their troubles.

    Their need.

    We are called to meet those needs.

    And in meeting them…

    We meet our own.

    It’s okay to feel scared.

    It’s okay to feel lonely.

    We don’t have to have it all together.

    It may seem like everyone else has it together.

    But that is a lie.

    We are all just trying.

    We all die inside in little ways every day.

    We all hope and wish for more.

    We will never “arrive” until we learn to be content.

    With lost jobs.

    With piles of laundry.

    With having to work.

    With having so little money.

    I can’t imagine being content with any of these things.

    Yet, I am called to be.

    This is where God has me, at least for now.

    And I don’t get it.

    But I have to live it.

    So I might as well live it well.

    My children love me.

    My work is important.

    God is finding a way through this mess, even if it doesn;t seem like it.

    My view is so limited.

    His isn’t.

    My needs are so selfish.

    He isn’t.

    I am afraid that he has forgotten me.

    He hasn’t.

    And never will.

    • 38

      I love the progression of this – you take us with you on your journey to find contentment. Some very vivid pictures here -piles of laundry, your baby’s face as you leave him or her at daycare (and in it we see your own). Thank you for being vulnerable and sharing your heart.

  33. 39

    If I could get into your head, I could see again. The newness of a leaf, how it moves and how it swings side to side is a thing of wonder. We call it leaf, you call it holy. Your eyes don’t rush over the corners of things – the shape of the cupboard, the blade of a fan. And everything that you see is amazingly, astoundingly new. You don’t see only the prettiness of the pretty things – a face with wrinkles and lines, maybe even missing a few teeth, is a thing of great awe. You can look and look for ages and it makes me think that I have missed so much, and your little three month old eyes teach me to see again.

    People want to see themselves through your eyes. How they wait and long to have a glance, a smile from those shiny ocean-full eyes. Those eyes. Oh they are full of you. Nothing is hidden in their fury as the milk isn’t soon enough. Nothing is held back as they dance while we play a game of peekaboo, where you bubble over with joy. And then you stare at me in fear from your pink and blue bed, needing absolutely nothing but my reflection.

    You cure my blindness.

  34. 41

    Oh my, it is hard when they see things more clearly and you wish they couldn’t.

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