Five Minute Friday - Morning

(Late again... I know... But here I am, finally!)

I LOVE mornings... early, early mornings. Before the sun, before the birds, before the alarm clock and the coffee maker, before the rest of the world... before everyone and everything except time with my Savior.

There's something about the dark, quiet - after I've rested - that draws like a magnet.

As a swimming teen - first thing early morning workouts were my favorites. Sometimes I'd actually swim faster then, than in an actual competition. Swimming laps outdoors in the summer as the sun rose... those memories still leave me speechless. Nothing but the sound of water splashing, the clock ticking and praying away stroke after stroke after stroke.

In college, waking early to find a quiet dorm lounge where I could study without disturbing my roommate resulted in a more productive homework session.

Rising early to take off driving - whether heading to or from home - the road quiet and peaceful and mostly free of traffic with soft music or provocative discussions or Bible teachers on the radio... the miles simply melt away.

Once becoming a mama, early morning feedings then later watching sweetness sleep nestled next to me made sleep almost undesirable. Quiet times to rock and read and snuggle and visit and beat from-the-heart-thanks are treasures.

Then there are the wee morning hours with sick ones. Honestly, I used to resent those times, until I grasped that those really were blessings in disguise, God offering the gift of more time to rock and read and snuggle and visit and pray and serve my family.

Later, enveloped by heat and living life on the backside of the Sahara Desert, mornings because the best time to bake bread... and to feed on the Word of God. Sometimes, it permitted unexpected messenger conversations with friends and family afar. Other times, this allowed for sweet surprises and dozens of donuts that didn't come from Dunkin's, Crispy Creme's or Tim Horton's... but rather my own kitchen... my own hands... my own sweat.

Today, sometimes mornings are times to lie quiet and still beside my husband, listen to him breathe (or sometimes softly snore) and remember while remembering - to be thankful for all that God has allowed since bringing us together, for all that He will bring in our time that remains.

I can't forget Saturday morning cleaning where the whole family pitches in - the music blares while we dance with brooms or scrub a toilet in time with the beat. During one season, we were privileged to watch love blossom when he came to help her... with her "jobs." Now that's love! 

And finally,  this oft' prayed proverb: "The way of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, which shines ever brighter until the full light of day." 

May it ever be so...

Five Minute Friday ~ Not Forgot{ten}

No, I've not forgotten this space.

Nor have I forgotten to feel guilty every time I consider taking a few minutes to actually sit down and write something.

And I've certainly not forgotten that sometimes the very best way for me to process life is to write with my fingers.

But what I had forgotten was how wonderfully hard and delightfully busy this parenting business can be...

You see, I was somehow under this illusion ~

that once the littlest littles finally became independent middlers that I'd have a little bit more time... 

that once the independent middlers became almost grown up biggers there's be a little less insanity around the house... 

that once the almost grown up biggers became grown up biggers flying the nest to work and study far from me, the parenting intensity might increase but bulk volume would actually lighten - just a little bit.

However, between homework in a second language, still cooking almost everything from scratch to try and make the food budget work, travel time back and forth from school and work, ministry and volunteer opportunities, dipping my toes back into teaching English just a little bit AND trying to figure out how to blog in my second language...

This space remains, sadly, neglected

But not forgotten.

When You're Marked by Love

Today is my husband's birthday - the twenty-second one we've celebrated as a couple... and he's out of the country - a missionary on a missions trip to yet a different distant place with one of our girlies. He's far from perfect, but he's committed to his God, to me, our children, our family, friends literally scattered across the globe and to our community - and I'm so glad he's mine. But... if I wrote a sappy piece about love... it might embarrass him... 

So, in keeping with this theme of love for the month of February, I'd like to consider a slightly different perspective as it has been pinging and ponging around in my soul of recent.

While their daddy's been gone, I've been trying to do some special things with our other children, including listening to books on CD (Anne of Green Gables) and revisiting a favorite television series (Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman). We've all been loving it - I mean, who doesn't find "Anne with an e," at the very least, amusing and at least a little endearing. And, as far as family TV that provokes great discussion from curious little and not so little minds, Dr. Quinn is, perhaps, my favorite. 

“There's such a lot of different Annes in me. 

I sometimes think that is why I'm such a troublesome person. 

If I was just the one Anne 

it would be ever so much more comfortable,

but then it wouldn't be half so interesting.” 

~Anne in LM Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables

I love this Anne quote because of its deeply profound veracity....

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Please join me over at Missionary Mom's Companion to read the rest!