Here’s the deal. Five Minute Friday. You go find the little prompt at the wonderful Lisa-Jo’s blog, set the time and write for five minutes, and then just stop. Where you are, no edits, just publish raw words.
SONG…
Since a young age I’ve babbled. I learned to speak quickly, I assume, because I always had my face in a book. That never changed, because I still walk down the stairs and eat dinner with my nose in a book the entire time.
I had speech issues, though, and went to speech therapy for a year or two. I don’t remember anything about it except that I couldn’t say my R’s.
After two years of college spanish, I still can’t roll my R’s. I don’t have an accent, but I say words weirdly – well, at least that’s what everyone else says. I pronounce orange as “are-inge.” And it sounds 100% correct to me!
It’s one of those little quirks – these R “mistakes.” As I’ve begun to write more, I’m learning to accept the “mistakes” and work through them, to pick up the pen again or type out one more line.
As I share more pieces of me with you, you who I may never meet, I’m sharing the good and the hard.
I’m sharing my Story.
With joy tonight I sing the Story of His grace and love.
Will you allow me to sing for you?
His wondrous Love reached down to a girl of almost-seven and saved her. He rescued a short little brown-haired child, and has rescued her from worldly things each day since. This God-Man was the only constant Friend when the little girl grew up and realized sometimes community hurts each other. He sung her to sleep many tear-drenched pillow nights, and He woke her up each morning with enough to get by when relying on Him.
All grown up, she learned of a brain tumor and came face-to-face with the healing power of One.
Faithfulness provided hope and new dreams, and a new home of acceptance and love. After many years, He glued back enough jagged, sharp pieces into a shape that was finally able to trust love again. The broken girl began to sing, and with a little practice she was able to fly, even with her tattered feathers.
This same Daddy sings her to sleep on the happy nights and on the hard ones. because the story isn’t about the little girl – it’s about the Author of the Story, the Composer of the Song.
Close your eyes and let His words encourage you, wash over your tired heart and weary bones.
The LORD your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.
Zephaniah 3:17
