On Fridays a group of folk meet here for a free writing exercise.

Just 5 minutes. On the prompt that’s posted here just after midnight early Friday morning. Want to know more – check out the Five Minute Friday back story over here.

And every week I feature a favorite Five Minute Friday post by one of you over there in my side bar. It never ceases to amaze me the creative collaboration that can come from all of us writing on just one word.

Want to join our favorite free writing exercise of the week? It’s easy peasy:

1. Write for 5 minutes flat on the prompt: “Dance” with 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 me your best five minutes on:::




I got a beautiful, leather bound journal as a gift from one of my brothers in 1999.

More than a decade later this is what was inside it: Nothing. No art, no dreams, no hopes, no love or lists or dates to remember.

I have been intimidated by this journal for the last decade. This beautiful journal and it’s blank pages have traveled with me to:

South Bend, Indiana.

Chicago, Illinois

Kyiv, Ukraine.

Pretoria, South Africa.

Owosso, Michigan.

Washington, D.C.

But you would never know that to look at it’s pages. They are beautiful but completely blank.

Devoid of any blemish. Devoid of life.

My brother wrote in the front of the journal, because he knows me well –

“May words you write here be inspired and reckless.”

– and I never felt that anything I had to say was worth it.

But Ann inspired me to see how grocery lists and kid’s wish lists and chore lists are sacred. They are the essence of motherhood. They are what you would see when you dissect the heart of motherhood.

They are the blood and life spring of what it means to maintain a home. And I am going to write them down in this journal.

Because becoming a mother was the most wild, brave and reckless thing I have done so far. It required a wild trust and a brave faith. And so I write it down. Daily. Here on a white page online and the lists that go with it in a blank journal I’m learning not to be scared of anymore.

My so much more than ordinary story.