Five Minute Friday: Story

We write for five minutes flat. All on the same prompt that I post here at 1 minute past midnight EST every Friday. And we connect on Twitter with the hashtag #FMFParty (short for Five Minute Friday party). In fact, starting at around 10pm EST on Thursday you’ll find a lot of writers hanging out and chatting on Twitter with this hashtag.

No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation.

Unscripted. Unedited. Real.

- See more at: http://lisajobaker.com/2013/08/five-minute-friday-story/#comment-114442


Start:

Story is a funny thing; for me, everything has a story.  Every situation is a narrative.  I love to hear people's stories.  I love to hear where they have come from; what makes them tick.  I love to pick into peoples lives and put together the puzzles which explains why they are how they are.

I think often times that is what is missing in so much of todays society.  No body seems to want to stop and understand one another.  No one seems to want to investigate the mystery of who those we encounter are.

Sometimes it takes work.  Sometimes people don't want to let you in.  You have to creep about like a little spider outside the house of who they are and find a crack.  You ask questions, talk about safe things, push buttons until you find the one that lights up their eyes.  Once the light goes on in the house, then it takes just a little more effort to get them to open the door.

It's like a game to me.  I like to see how long it takes to get someone to open up and let me inside.  My husband says he loves to watch me go to work, picking and poking, joking and commenting until I get the door open.  Someone may not want to let me inside, but it is a gift the Lord has given me to be able to untangle the barbed wire that keeps everyone else out and get inside.

Everyone has a story to tell, and each of them are unique and beautiful and gives us another piece of the puzzle of who God is and what He is about on this earth and how He is bringing the Kingdom of Heaven to earth.

Everyone has a story to tell.  Will you stop and listen?  Will you be intentional and genuine and interested to get to the story even if it takes some effort, or will you stay consumed with yourself and miss the story God wants to tell you through the people you encounter today.

Five Minute Friday: Broken

I abandoned this blog (according to my farewell post) 1 year and 12 days ago.  I started a new blog, wrote on it for a while, then stopped blogging at all.  School got nuts and I stopped allocating time to write.  I went searching for some old posts on this blog last week and was struck by how much history I had here, so I am back.  I don't know how often I will post on it, but maybe I can at least try and do Five minute Friday every week.

So here is what it is..... on Fridays we set a timer and write for 5 minutes no thinking, editing, no censorship of self.  Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a prompt and we write and link back to her blog.

Broken

Start:

Broken is a word that describes where I have found myself again.  I have walked with the Lord for 21 years.  He has been so faithful and loving.  He has never left me and always pushes me further.  He has healed me and changed me.  I am so grateful for His love and grace.  I am so amazed when I look back and take note of who I was and who He has made me become.  I never would have dreamed that that broken, homeless, pregnant, angry drug addict would become who I have become, do the things I have done or have so much abundant blessing in my life.  He is good....

But lately, as I get quiet and still with Him and ask for Him to make me more like Himself and help me be willing and available for His use, I am struck by how broken I still am.  Or at least parts of me are.  I am still so insecure.   I am still so guarded.  I hold back so much.  I am still afraid to be rejected or fail.  I walk down the stairs to me interior basement and I find there are still small broken little girls inside of me.  I am still that little girl who is not good enough and is so afraid.  She is still down there shivering, alone, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees and face buried.  Then I think, will I ever be whole.  Am I one of the ones that was so devastated by abuse, that I will never be totally put back together.   Then I am reminded of the hope I cling to.  There will be a day where the brokenness is no more.  Where there is no more pain and no more tears.  Even if the little girls stays broken in the basement for the rest of my life.  On the other side of heaven she will be whole.

The world is broken and we are broken, but we have this hope as an anchor to the soul.  He is our hope.  By His grace all the broken pieces of me are held together in His hands and in Him I am complete.