Around here we write for five minutes flat on Fridays.
We finger paint with words. We try to remember what it was like to just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.
Want to play Five Minute Friday? It’s easy peasy! (<–-Tweet this!)
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. Link back to Gypsy Mama and invite others to join in.
3. Meet & encourage someone who linked up before you.
OK, are you ready? Give us your best five minutes on:
My autocorrect was replacing all of my words with incomprehensible ones that made me sound like an idiot. My concentration was fixated on the little screen and each swipe and tap of my index finger only served to further mess up my text message. With my mind so fixated on exchanging witty banter, I was once again distracted from what was happening around me. I heard the noise, high pitched and constant , and I found myself automatically shushing it’s source, my 7 year old daughter. I finish the text, pressed send, waited for the phone to vibrate with a reply.
My eyes broke momentarily from my trance to catch Kaia’s face crumbling. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears, just waiting to spill down her cheeks. What? Had she hurt herself, sitting there on my bed? What just happened?
“Mommy, I was singing you my favorite song. You usually love, Be Thou My Vision,” she whispers and the tears break free as does my heart. Because I do. I do love when she sings to me, when her face beams with pleasure as her little voice rises and falls, as she stumbles over the words in the verses and closes her eyes. All I heard was noise in the background, not worship. I completely failed to hear the offering of my little girl and thus I rejected it.
How many times will I fail these little souls? How many times will my distraction speak louder than my love? What do they hear when mommy’s face is hidden behind her keyboard, behind her phone, behind her to do list?
I talk about how I want my kids to know they’re valued. Loved. Treasured. But talking and speaking are not necessarily the same. I talk with my words, my ideals, my hopes for their hearts. But I speak with my actions, with my shushes, my not now honey mommy’s busy, with my just a minute while I finish up on Facebook. I don’t want my heart to be lost by the noise my actions speak. I don’t want my life to get too loud to hear their hearts.
Stop. Ok, now go link up and see what the others did with their 5 minutes.