It’s Friday. Time to let the stress and busyness of this week roll right off and just let the words go. You know the drill.
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 me your best five minutes on::: Beyond
They put their world into 140 character tweets, type their status’ in blue rimmed boxes and press update. Snap a shot and filter it into my world. And I weed through, waist deep. The chime of my iPhone beckoning me to some announcement. Some news.
I am mastering hashtags and @symbols and connection. I am making friends beyond the boundaries of my city, or my state, or my country. I am a world traveler, seeing into spaces where women rejoice with the births of their tiny pink bundles with blue and pink striped caps.
I share hot sidewalks with drippy ice cream cones and the chubby sticky fingers of youth and summer, pools and toenails painting in bright orange bloom.
I see little black dresses and painted lips and hair that can only be done with two hands and strong biceps and date nights and anniversaries and years shared between kids, and carpools, mortgages, and the Monday morning rush. So few make it these days but the ones who do smile proudly into bathroom mirrors, or across candlelit tables, cheek to cheek. I say congratulations.
I feel joy at this find, amidst the porcelain figurines and tacky gold frames,the vintage keys on heavy black frame, used to type messages, much like this one. I snap it into a frame and share.
I see chocolate-brown smiles and a flash of white teeth. These children from my sponsored kid’s countries. Maybe they are friends. Maybe they go to the same center and play the same ball game in the dusty brown field. And the continents collide and connect. I press my finger and a heart appears.
And I hear the petitions. So many. Prayer, needs, emergencies, support. He is sick and can’t gain weight. His mama holds him to her, fragile like a baby bird, and leans hard into God. Please pray.
She needs direction, what will the Lord have her do, will you please pray with her? The meds are making her so very sick, her bones a weary mass beneath weather worn skin.
They are losing their home. Cardboard boxes surround them and the wood floor gleams empty. Pray for wisdom and trust.
The ambulance just arrived, my mama heart pounds and prays and follows the swirling red lights in state’s stretched far, where wheat grows and sways like the sea. She wilts, dwarfed by her hospital bed but the prayers encase her. Later there are answers and smiles and relief, her curly matted hair bounding around her Snoopy scrubs like a halo.
She found blood, when no woman wants to bleed. With belly burgeoning and her face flushed. She sends a somber update. Tears flow. My heart knows this place and it breaks for her pain. She is so far away. All I can do is pray.
A morse code of characters. It is the modern world’s prayer chain. Pray without ceasing. So I scroll. And click. And in it all, I say my prayers. For you and with you, though we’ve often never met, we will surely in the end. The whole earth is filled with His glory and everything can be used to worship.