RED {Five Minute Friday}

She gazes at the crisp white sheet as if the rest of her life depends on the next twenty minutes. Her heart is heavy and self expectation high- too high. It's a simple math test. She knows all the concepts.

What she fears more than anything is my response. What will the teacher's red marks reveal? Do they tell her she's approved? Accepted? Rejected? Stupid? Unable? Not good enough?

She misses a minor step here, and forgets a label there. I attempt to put small check marks with a bright red pen, hoping she will receive it as a learning opportunity. Not a reason to doubt. But the tears come and the insecurities take over. She didn't get 100%. She's not good enough. She's less than perfect.

I guide her to another red. There's this crimson red blood offering freedom through words of red. Red inscriptions from the Good Teacher. Marks and letters, messages written in scarlet speaking the only truth. The one truth she must regard more than anything; more than my plastic ball-point-pen could ever speak.

He says it simply and profoundly:

Come to Me. I will give you rest. Learn from Me. I am gentle. You will find rest for your souls. My yoke is easy. My burden is light. Follow me.

That's all He requires. That's all He expects. That's all He asks. Come to Him. He expects no perfection, just holy intention. He knows your weakness, struggles, shortcoming, and insecurities. He's created you for good works and written it all in RED.

Joining hundreds of Jesus lovers who just write, not worrying if it's just right or not over at Lisa-Jo's space. This week's prompt- RED.

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Small {Five Minute Friday}

Sometimes the day drags on and I find myself doing nothing more than entertaining or being entertained.  Friends on Facebook are cooking and canning and cleaning and making schedules and checking off items on their to-do list. Me? I'm trying to decide at 7:30pm what in the world we will have for dinner. I need to be more like them.

Then she calls and says those words to me- "my son thinks your family is the standard. He thinks he should have just as much time on the video games each day as your son." And I'm feeling even smaller than I was a minute ago.

I sit with a friend on my deck. We sit out here because inside the house is plastic and plaster and wet paint and too much reconstruction. I wanted to tell her not to even bother- please choose another day. But this couldn't wait. She is more important than my mess and she really doesn't even care what the house looks like. Or if I have cabinets sitting on the floor waiting to be installed and groceries on tables covered by sheets. What she needs is a listening ear and a prayerful friend. What she needs is a repentant daughter and a God that saves to the uttermost.

And my small heart is undergoing a little reconstruction of its own.

Today we celebrate sixteen years of marriage. Sixteen years! It feels huge to me, but then I see those other women and how they've survived unspeakable battles and decades of motherhood and married life, and my story seems small and insignificant again. It's only sixteen years.

But, it is our sixteen years. And we are headed away for the weekend to enjoy a break, to enjoy each other, to escape a half-finished kitchen, and remind ourselves of the small things- the things that keep us going and keep us looking up. Happy 16th Anniversary to my best friend!

(Writing today with the community at Lisa-Jo's where we love to just write without worrying if it's just right or not. Set the timer for five minutes and write on this prompt- Small. Then come share with us.)

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