Linking up with Lisa Jo Baker at Five minute Friday. Prompt: Fly
“Ma’am, this is the 9-1-1 operator. Is everything alright there?”
“Yes,” I answered immediately. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m just checking on a call I received from this location.”
“Operator, you’re mistaken. I’m sitting down watching television with my two children. Nothing is wrong here.”
“I’m sorry Ma’am but about ten minutes ago we received a call from a young child around six years old who called from this number.”
I looked over at my daughter, “Jessie did you call 9-1-1?”
With her brown eyes widening she nodded her head.
“I’ll take care of this right away operator. I’m very sorry. It will never happen again.”
I marched Jessie into the bathroom and she received one swat on her bottom. Then I asked. I know wrong order. “Why would you do something like that?”
“I had to, Mom. Nathan was in the bathroom. And he started coughin’ and he said, Jess, call 9-1-1 quick. I swallowed a fly!”
I hugged my life-saving daughter and went looking for her 12 year old brother.
And years later, on his wedding day, guess what story I shared?
Just linking up with Lisa Jo Baker for Five minute Friday. Word prompt: truth
God sees you crumpled up by life.
Gently, he picks you up, smoothing out creases. He holds you like a child holds a caterpillar.
He saw the way you were hurt. And when you cried, his tears mingled with yours.
The day you felt alone, you were wrong. He was there.
No whimper went unnoticed by the one who sees each sparrow fall.
But the silence felt so overwhelming. And when the lies came they were easy to swallow.
To believe God doesn’t care. That no one cares.
To believe you are unimportant, worthless. But I know the truth.
John 15:13 “Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
The lie is you don’t matter.
The truth is - God loves you so much he gave his most prized possession to redeem you. So that one day you can live with him forever.
The lie is you’re useless.
The truth is - He has plans for you that you don’t know yet.
The lie is you’re worthless.
The truth is - when you believe what Jesus did, you become God’s child.
The lies try to silence the truth. But it’s there. Always there, waiting for us to acknowledge it.
This is the truth: God loves you.
He was there when you were formed in your mother’s womb. He fashioned every part of you.
Hold onto the truth. And when the lies rush at you like relentless waves, remember what’s true.
And rest. For the Father loves you.
And that’s the truth.
We’ve all felt it. Moments when we didn’t fit in, being outside looking in. Years later, we still feel the sting of those experiences. More than anything, they made us want to protect ourselves from ever feeling that way again, no matter what.
When I saw a blog advertising a writing program, Tribe Writers, something stirred inside me. Could I do this?
I liked what I read about the program, and I liked the blogs the teacher, Jeff Goins wrote, but I had reservations. I didn’t know anyone there. I was scared. And yet, I wanted to become a better writer.
So I took the plunge. And it’s one of the best decisions I ever made.
New endeavors are always challenging. I learned about blogging, about technical things. I literally shook the first time I had to press “submit.”
I’m not a tech person, so it took me longer, but I hung in there. I learned I wasn’t alone. There were people willing to help.
“Write something scary”
We got one assignment and my heart started beating faster, my feet got cold. Write something scary? I avoided scary things. And we were being asked to go towards them? Was he kidding?
As I read entries of other Tribe Writers I realized I was not the only one scared. And yet, some of the best writing came out of that assignment.
Something unlocked inside me when I realized I could write about the scary things. And as I did, not only did it free me up, but by doing it, I was inviting others to share their scary places.
I tasted community in a new way. I was part of something bigger than myself. They were in the water splashing around, inviting me to join them. They assured me it would be okay, and they were right.
When members needed prayer, they posted it. When someone needed help, others responded. We held different beliefs and it was okay. We accepted each other, cared about each other. And we welcomed each new person in.
What you will find with Tribe Writers:
- a place where you’re free to share your writing
- a place where people are willing to help you
- clear instruction on getting where you want to go
What you will not find.
- a magic formula that guarantees a best seller
- harsh criticism
- an elite group that is closed
Before Tribe Writers, I had published Bible Studies and articles with Christianity Today. Since I’ve been in Tribe Writers, I published my first book, Real Love: Guaranteed to Last.
I’m launching two new books, Broken, YET:Growing through the Pain of Abuse, and Beneath the Surface: a Book of Poetry. That’s three books within a year!
Before Tribe Writers, I thought tweets were sounds birds made. Other Tribe Writers helped me get started with Twitter. My blogging is regular and I have tripled my fans. Guest posting enabled me to speak to other audiences.
What about you?
Do you have a story inside you waiting to come out? Do you want to improve your writing? Do you want to leave a legacy?
Tribe Writers may be for you.
The teaching, the encouragement, the valuable interviews. It’s not just a class—it’s an experience. A real community.
Tribe Writers is starting another session, Wednesday, November 6th.
We’d love to have you join us. Come on in—the water’s fine.
For more information click HERE.
Disclaimer: The link to Tribe Writers is an affiliate link. It won’t cost you anymore money to join and it helps me buy groceries.
Linking up with Lisa Jo Baker for another Five minute Friday. Prompt is grace.
I still remember the day.
I walked through the gangway, around the back of the brick bungalow and opened the basement door.
Inside the smoke-filled room I saw long tables set up with scraps of paper and Bibles piled on the end. There were bowls of pretzels and twenty-year-olds sitting around crunching. The aroma of coffee filled the room.
Then Lois Peterson, a woman with long dangling earrings sat down on a stool and started talking. She instructed us where to turn in our Bibles. She assigned verses to those who raised their hands.
I felt a warmth I never felt before.
Lois talked about God like she knew him. I mean personally knew him. Her blue eyes sparkled as she told us we could know we were going to heaven.
Lois said God loved us so much he sent his Son to die for us. That when Jesus died on the cross he shed blood. And because he never sinned it was perfect blood. The only thing that could take care of our sin.
Lois called salvation a gift—something we couldn’t work for. Because if we earned it, then it would no longer be a gift.
And she said it was because of God’s grace that Jesus died. All because of grace.
It was the first time I had heard the word. I had heard about Jesus dying before, I didn’t realize how it personally affected me.
What Lois talked about wasn’t something I could do, it was something God had done.
She explained when Jesus said, “It is finished” when he was on the cross, he was talking about the payment for our sins, for my sins. That it was his blood that washed them away.
And I was hungry for this thing called grace.
I knew I was a sinner. I lived with me.
I wanted what she offered. I opened my heart and believed it.
I accepted God’s gift, Jesus.
And that’s where I met grace.
This post is in response to a question by Pamela Hodges. What is life like?
Life is like a window.
Looking through the glass, we see colors shouting with vibrancy. Or we notice subdued ones that are quietly there.
We can open the window, letting fragrances bathe us. Listening to the sounds around.
Or we can sit in mustiness with our windows and ears shut tight.
We see different scenes through the glass. Trees blush, inviting us to watch the show.
People run by with nowhere to go. Dogs take their masters for walks. There is movement all around.
Little birds hide in bushes. As squirrels play tag while bunnies hop by.
Drawing our shades we can try to keep the world out. Life won’t force its way in. It goes on.
Wind blows against shaky panes, unsettling for awhile. Rain slides down in clear lines.
Windows fracture from disappointment and loss. But even then, light streams in, warming rooms, creating shadows that dance on walls.
Life is like a window.
What will you see today?
Linking up with Lisa Jo Baker for another Five minute Friday. Prompt: Together
Together. She never knew that word before. Till she found him, or rather till he found her.
And since that day they were always together, but not like two peas in a pod. She hated peas.
She just knew she always wanted to sit across the table from him. To be the one to hear his stories again and again. And she did.
And when the doctor used the c word she knew what he meant, but she refused to believe it.When he slipped downhill fast she held onto the denial that had become her new companion.
She couldn’t be alone, she screamed inside. He had to be here. He’s all she ever knew. He’s the one who accepted her as she was.
And yet, he is gone. He left when the cancer took over. He changed before her eyes.
And he forgot things. Like who he was, and why he was in a rehabilitation place.
“Can we go home now?” he would ask each time.
And then there was the day he said, “Oh, I get it, I am home.”
Sometimes he forgot they were together. He spoke about her, but only to others.
She misses him so much. Too much to think about. Instead she shuffles into the quiet kitchen to make a cup of lonely coffee.
Petting one of the cats on her way to the other room, she forgets why she went in there.
Alone is her new life and she hates it. He wasn’t supposed to leave her. It wasn’t in her plans.
Pretty soon it will be dark and she’ll pull covers over her tired body. And maybe if she’s lucky she’ll fall asleep.
But hopefully she won’t dream of him. It’s too hard waking up to find out he’s gone all over again. That they are no longer together.