Five Minute Friday - Last

It is Friday and time for me to set my timer, clear my head, and experience five minutes of free writing without worrying about getting it right. So what are the rules?  They are simple:
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back to Lisa Jo's blog 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...

Last…

Go: 

There are always lasts when there are firsts.   I remember the first day of school for each of my children.  I remember crying as they walked through the doors of the school.  I also remember the last first day for them and the last day ever when the baby graduated.  Where did the time go?

I remember the last time I lived alone.  Kat was away at college and I was single once more.  I remember stretched out in the floor of my living room, crying.  Then Kat came home with chicken pox for ten days and I remember rejoicing....when she left.  Times change when we least expect them.  I eventually grew to like living alone.  You don't have to answer to anyone.

I remember the last time I saw my mom.  It was our Fall Break and I was going to see my friend Susan in Knoxville.  We had not even been there for twenty-four hours when I got the dreaded call.  If I had only known it would be the last time I would lay my head upon her chest and hear her heart beat.  

I remember crying when my last graduating class of seniors took the field.  This would be the last time I would be a senior advisement teacher. 

I remember the last moments I spent with my dad and the last day of fall term in 2009.  I will never forget that day.  I arrived at school only to be told that my father was dead.  I remember my friend Susan staying with me.....and then I remember when she left to go home.....she asked me if I was ok and I thought I was....it was time.....she left....and I crashed.  Ten minutes later she knocked on my door.....I fell into her arms sobbing.  She had forgotten her wallet.  When she left again....I was fine.   

Last first days, last moments spent with friends and family before they were taken from this earth.  Last trips, last loves, last....last....last......but as sad as this post has made me.....I have to know that for every last I experience there will be or was a first....and I smile. 

In August of 2014 I will begin my last first day of my last year.  In May of 2015 I am looking forward to experiencing my last day as a teacher....but like I said....for every last....there is a first....and in June of 2015 I will experience my first day.....as a retired person.  I will have arrived.

STOP

Five Minute Friday - Small

It is that time of the week, Friday.  Time to 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:::

Small…

 GO...
Thoughts on School:  I sit here in my classroom on the last Friday of summer with tears running down my face.  the Temptations are playing softly on Pandora.  I do not know why I feel so very small at this very moment.  My job appears to be overwhelming me....as it always does at the beginning of the school year.  I want to be a great teacher.  I want to make a difference in some child's life.  I want them to tell me on my Facebook page how much I touched them.  Here I sit.....Everything is done, the copies are run, the dust has been cleared, all the inservices are over, the room is inviting, creativity abounds....I cannot be more ready.....yet in the grand scheme of things I feel small....insignificant.  I am but one small person.....put here on this earth to teach.....214 students this year about Spanish and English.....and I feel so small.  I find it hard to breathe.  Monday....when my classroom is full of excited and anxious students I will no longer feel small.  I will feel in control.  This is my element.  These are my classes.  Let the learning begin.

Thoughts on Church:  I stand at the podium on Sunday's and I feel small.  My knees knock so loud I am surprised I am not deafening the congregation.  I feel so small next to the E family.  They are all so tall....and know their scriptures.   I know that this is Satan working in my life.  I know that I am where God has placed me.  I know this is a God thing....yet...that feeling of small sucks the very breath out of my longs.  I am not going to let Satan have the last word.  I am mighty....I am a princess.  My father is a king....and no one can make me feel small in His presence....except....me.  So I am going to "Let Go and Let God" and put small in its place.  I am going to rise to the occassion.  Carpe Diem....Seize the day.  Think about it....have you ever seen an ant colony?  I had one as a child....they are amazing....and look how small the little critters are.  I want that kind of persistance.  I don't want to even think....hey I am small and I can't do this.....I want to believe....hey....that mountain is in my way....watch me bring it down. 

Five Minute Friday - Story

On Fridays a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write without worrying if it’s just right gather to share what five minutes buys them. While the kids are changing into their swim suits, while the pop corn is popping, while the dog is outside doing his business, while the show cuts to commercial. Just five minutes. Your words. This shared feast. So I know you are asking yourself....How do I get in on this fun?  It is simple. 
Here is how to join: It’s easy peasy, just: Check what the prompt is on Lisa Jo's blog. Write a post in only five minutes on that topic on your blog (or in the comments below if you don’t have a blog). Link over here and invite friends to join in. Using the blue linky tool at the bottom of Lisa Jo's Five Minute Friday post enter your link. It will also walk you through selecting which photo you want to show up in the linky. Your post will show up in the Five Minute Friday linky. The most important requirement for participation: There’s really only one absolute, no ifs, ands or buts about it Five Minute Friday rule: you must 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. Today's word is:

STORY

GO

As my timer ticks off five minutes all I can think about at this very moment are the lyrics to Blessed Redeemer.  You know that part that goes, "This is my story, this is my song."  My mind is a flutter and I am not sure that I will be able to fence it in today....right this moment it jumps back many years to when my mom would share bedtime stories with my brother and I. Our favorite stories were the ones from the Giant Storybook Treasury and Black Beauty. Reading stories was a nightly ritual and she would read from our beloved books each night.  I would want to hear her read every page in the book....but alas....all we got was one chapter/story for my brother and one for me. 

When my brother died....right after Christmas...the story she read pretty much every night was The Littlest Angel.  I would fall asleep most every night in tears because he looked so much like my brother.  The story was a great healer.  One night my mom read it and I did not cry as much....and I realized that life went on.....and my story was not finished.  Stories have always been an important factor in my life.  I come from a long line of story tellers and we are proud of it.  Stories come at you in many forms in my family.  We sing, we write music, we sit around and share stories....and we love oral tradition.   One of my favorite expressions when something goes very much wrong is, "well that is the story of my life."  When my blogging days began it was started to share stories about dealing with a parent with lung cancer/short term memory loss and a parent with full blown dementia/Alzheimer's Disease.  I needed somewhere/someway to vent.  I found my solution through telling my story.  I have met many people along this road who shared their stories with me and slowly I began to heal.  I have discovered stories everywhere...everyone has one....some I like...some I don't.  A Christmas Story( I am a purist when it comes to Christmas)....you know the one about Ralphie is NOT a favorite story....yet I love Toy Story with Woodie and the gang.  I love the Christmas story being read from the Bible at Christmas as the manger is placed in its place of honor.  I love the stories of Anne of Green Gables, Mary Queen of Scotts, Amish stories, Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, Black Beauty, Jonah, Noah, Jesus, the REAL Christmas Story, Huck Finn(taking a deep breath), and all the rest of the gang.  I love stories. I love hearing my friends and strangers stories.  I love having the chance to ask anyone, so..."What is your story today?"....and then sitting back while the story unfolds.

STOP

Five Minute Friday - Belong

It is Friday and that means it is time for 5 Minute Friday.  I love this day and look forward to it every week because it is a time when I sit for five minutes and just write about whatever comes to my mind about a given word.  The rules are easy and if you would like to participate this is what you do:

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here to Lisa Jo's blog 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 the word:::

Belong…
I belong to a big family.  I have 96 first cousins.  Belonging is important to me.  I love the sense of being a piece of a whole.  I began belonging to this family on April 15th, 1954.  I have children, grandchildren, and one precious little great grandchild.  I tell you what belonging to a family rocks.  I am blessed with a loving family.

 

 

I belong to Frank.  I love being his other (sometimes better) half.  I can exist without him but existing with him is so much more fun.  I love being part of his life and having him as part of mine.  He is so supportive and I hope that I am the same in return.

 

I belonged to the First United Methodist Church in West Palm Beach, Florida when I was growing up.  I loved my church.  It was a safe haven full of familiars.  I loved belonging to the choirs there, the Sunday School classes there, the Youth program there.  I belonged and to be honest was happier at church than I was anywhere else.  I have belonged to several churches since then.  I love belonging to a church.  Belonging to the Family of God is amazing no matter where you worship.

I belong to the Porch People.  This is a special group of folks we became a part of when we moved to Rock Mills.  I love each and every single one of them.  They took us in and made us feel like family.  They are like relatives from another mother.  Young and old they are an amazing group of people and I love them dearly.

I belong to the Class of 1972.  We graduated from Forest Hill High School together.  Some of us started Kindergarten together and went all the way to the Junior College together....belonging to each other....we were friends.  I love belonging to a group called friends.  Whether they are old friends from childhood or new friends right now.  Belonging to friends is a blessing.

 

I could be here for days sharing what belonging means to me, but I was only given five minutes.  I belong....here and now...and I love life.  Thank you God for letting me belong and having such a blessed life.  Can I get an amen?

Five Minute Friday - Rhythm

On Fridays hundreds of writers gather here to write the muse into being. You’re welcome to join from your blog, your pen and paper, your thoughts left in the comments. As long as you write. From anywhere – your desk, your car in the car pool line, your rocking chair with the baby in your arm and you typing on your phone.  Since the day I began doing this I fell in love with how we are able to make art in the middle of our every day ordinary

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 the word:::

Rhythm…

Go:

I am struggling with my prompt today.  There are a million thoughts/ideas flying through my brain and I cannot seem to settle down and write.  I need some music.....but it is 4 in the morning and everyone else in the house is still asleep.  I close my eyes for a few seconds...it can't be long.  I only have five minutes to do this.  Today is Friday and as I sit here typing I find myself being soothed throughout by the rhythm of the rain.  It taps against my windows and on my roof...this is nature's music...so why am I awake at this ungodly hour?  The rhythm of the rain is nice....the crashing of the thunder and the lightening that lights up my room ....not so nice.  I love rhythms.  I love musical rhythms, I love the rhythms of the crickets and frogs singing outside at night.  I love the rhythm of a drum(I especially love the quads). 

I attend football games for that.  There is something about when that beat begins that makes my whole being contort into something that looks like a dance.  I love the rhythm you get when the sink has a tiny leak, there is a cup in the sink,....and the faucet drops one after another tiny drop into the cup. 

Rhythms are all around me.  When you drive through downtown Waverly, AL....and there is rhythm coming from the road....da dum da dum...da dum dum dum dum dum.  I get rhythm from a rocking chair.  I love the sound of the of the rockers against the floors.  I have soothed many a restless, collicky baby with that sound.  I get rhythm from the sound of my husband....or children breathing as they sleep.  I love the rhythm of a tiny heart beat in my arms as they sleep. 

I love the rhythms you think about with music.  I love the bass riffs in the song "Spirit in the Sky" or the rhythmic intro to "My Girl" by the Temptations.  The minute they begin the rhythm draws me into my musical happy place...and just like now....sitting here listening to the rhythm of the rain....all is right with my world.  I have got rhythm....and I smile.

Five Minute Friday: Bare

Take a deep breath. You have made it. It’s Friday.  TGIF.  I have looked forward to today all week.  I could not wait to see what Lisa-Jo's prompt would be and what I would get to write about.  This weeks word was perfect.  (To tell you the truth....they all are.)  Want to join in?  It is simple:
Got five minutes? Let’s write. Let’s write in shades of real and brave and unscripted.
Let’s just write and not worry if it’s just right or not.

1. Write for 5 minutes flat for pure unedited love of the written word.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Go buck wild with encouragement for the five minuter who linked up before you.

Won’t you give me your best five minutes for the prompt:

Bare….

GO:

I came into this world that way....bare.  Nothing but skin between me and the world.  It was scary I think because my first action was to suck in air deeply and cry.  All of my life I have loved the feel of bare skin baking in the sun.  There is something so comforting about the sand, the surf, the heat.  Yet, that is not the only kind of bare I have experienced in my life.  When my brother died suddenly at the age of five, I began to bare my soul on paper.  I needed an outlet and that was the only one I could find.  I kept all my deep eight year old secrets locked deep inside....expecially the one where my brother's death was my fault.  If only I had stayed in our backyard....and not gone to ride with my best friend on our bikes we got for Christmas.  I was thirteen before I bared my soul to my dad and told him what I had done.  He held me as I cried and told me that it was not my fault.  I had not been asked to stay....I was told I could ride the bike....it was an accident....no ones fault.  Vietnam was a big deal and in the news everyday.  I knew people who went there and never came back....I bared my soul on paper writing poems about the war.  I continued to write about life....baring my secrets in my little journal every day.  Somedays it was just a sentence, somedays a poem, somedays just random thoughts.  When I was sixteen, at a youth rally for church, I bared my soul to God for the very first time.  I was raised in the church....I never missed.....I thought I was a Christian....but at sixteen....my world rocked and I knelt at the homemade altar at camp and unloaded it all before God.  Once again in my life I was bare.  This time I breathed in cleansing air and cried tears of great joy.  The writings changed....the person changed....life continued....and it was good.  It would not be the first time....or the last....that I would bare my heart before God.  I have found myself on my knees many times...baring my soul....and when I write....I bare my soul.  Sometimes it scares me because I do not know how the readers will take it.  Other times it empowers me because I am doing it for me.  When I discovered the power of the blog I was at a time in my life when I needed to stand bare and reach out for others who had been there before me.  I found myself with a father, dying of lung cancer and a mother, with alzheimers and they were living with us....newlyweds(we had been married a little over a year).  Blogging was the only outlet to bare my soul to strangers....but people I hoped would be able to help me through this.   Blogging has been a positive outlet for me....and a safe place to once again....bare myself....and be free.

STOP:

Five Minute Friday - Again

 

What is Five Minute Friday?  It is a piece of heaven on earth.  A time when you just write what is there and don't think about it, or double check it, or correct yourself.  It is just pure writing.  I love this day.  It gives me a chance to just do what comes naturally....write.  Thank you Lisa-Jo Baker for being such a fabulous host and giving us a place to explore and be free.  Want to join in"  The rules are simple: 

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:::

 

Again

Go:

Here I am again....writing on a Friday.  The words are stuck again and I know I only have five minutes to come up with something profound and worthy.  I feel so inadequate again as I have every Friday since I began participating.  I sit....again....I think....again....and finally it is there...the words I have inside me flow through my fingertips again and I find myself writing. so what do I have to say about the word again.  Today I am thinking that I wish I could be a child again.  I wish I could return to my childhood and take back any mean and hateful thing I said or did while I was a child.  I wish I could hug my parents again.  Oh....we hugged a lot when I was a child but since they have been gone there are times when I would love to feel my dad's strong arms wrapped around me again.  I miss him every day.  I wish I could stroke my mom's silver hair again and tell her I love her....it is hard to believe it has almost been two years since she joined my father in heaven.  I wish I could see my brother again.  It has been fifty years since I rode out of our backyard to play with my best friend down the street....who would have known I would never see him alive again.  I wish my best friend Mary and I could drive to Michigan again and become yuppers for a summer.  Yet, even with all the agains I wish for in my life....there are so many more nows that I have.  Now, I can hug my darling husband and daughter.  Now I can serve a mighty God.  Now I can spend time with the special people and friends in my life....now...at this moment....and that is my goal....to love them all...again....and again....and again!

STOP:

A Wide Five Minutes on Friday

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:::

Wide

 

Go:

Today's word is wide and there are two images that keep coming to my mind.  The first is simple and childlike and from the bowels of my memories.  I see Mrs. Mebold, my primary Sunday School teacher singing "Deep and Wide" to us. She was a lovely elderly lady.  I thought she was 100 back then...but she was probably only in her 60's.  She had the kind of arms that wave bye-bye to you and she would joyously sing the words to "Deep and Wide" with actions.  Her hands would spread apart vertically as she sang the deep verse and then they would spread apart horizontally when she sang the wide verse.  She had the longest arms in the eyes of a five year old.  I loved her madly.  My second image is one I learned in church as well.  It is a picture that was in our chapel at church of Christ on the Cross.  His arms were spread out wide on that cross....and when I was in elementary Sunday School my teacher taught us...."I asked Christ how much do you love me?"  With a tear falling down his face, he said, "This much," spread out his arms wide and died.  I don't think I will ever forget that.  I taught that little tale to my children and would always give them a wide hug when they would ask me how much I loved them.  Wide to me is fathomless.  It is from end to end.  The Mississippi is wide.  I remember the first time I crossed it.  I was amazed at the distance.  It was frightening to me because of the width.  I did not think it would ever end.  This great country is wide and expressive.  No matter where you travel....there is something different....and even more beautiful than the last place...so I will say it is Wide full of Wonderment.   When our forefathers left the East coast heading to the West coast...there was no end in site.  The Big Pond (a.k.a. The Atlantic) is wide.  I remember the first time I flew across it.  It did not seem to end.  I remember thinking, "what if the plane needs gas?"  When we flew there was nothingness forever it seemed...definitely wide to the max.  I love wide....I love wide opened spaces, wide opened windows, wide open means to me....come on in....and set a spell.

 

STOP:

 

See you next week for another writers prompt.  I love reading what everyone else has written about and it has been a great springboard for my own writing...and widened my own horizons.