#5MFW 32
You
31 Days of Practicing Faith
In October, I am free writing for five minutes a day—raw and unedited—on practicing faith in the every day. Each day is based on a different prompt from 31 Days of Five Minute Free Writes.
{Day 6} - You
I’ve spent my whole life wondering if I’ll ever know the fullness of who I am. I’ve tried to define myself by what I do. A dancer. An administrator. A writer. I’ve fit the mold of the relationships that mark me – daughter, sister, wife, mother. I am so far from who I was as a child. I thought I knew who I was as a teenager and that certainty makes me laugh now. I had no idea.
I wonder if I will be anything like I am now when my children are grown. Where will I be in 10 years? 20? Will I recognize myself then or will I again be someone so different?
I take comfort in the knowledge that He knew before I was born. And when my hair is gray and I don’t recognize my own face, He will still see me. I will still be the same one He created. He knows each day and each hair on my head. I may never fully know myself—any more than I can fully know Him.
But I can know that God does. He knows each thought before I think it and how the choices I make will shape who I will become. He knows me fully because it was His own hands that shaped me. And still He chose me.
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Silence
31 Days of Practicing Faith
In October, I am free writing for five minutes a day—raw and unedited—on practicing faith in the every day. Each day is based on a different prompt from 31 Days of Five Minute Free Writes.
{Day 5} - Silence
“Silence is spoken here,” the sign on the table says. We sit across from each other in the abbey dining room, my sister and I. We come to the monastery as often as we can but not nearly as often as we’d like. We chat for hours in the guest house living room or walking down by the lake. But in our rooms and in the dining room we observe silence along with the monks.
We speak with our eyes throughout the meal, smile or let out a little snicker. We come here for the silence and prayer but sometimes both of them are hard to make ourselves observe.
After breakfast she asks me if my mind races like hers when we sit in that silence or if I have learned how to keep my thoughts still. I laugh because I was wondering the exact same thing as song lyrics filled my mind or my thoughts wandered aimlessly. I wish I could make them be as silent as the abbey church. The way the stone walls echo with stillness is beautiful and haunting because I cannot seem to attain that kind of silence.
I look at the brothers who have devoted their lives to prayer and to stillness before God. I long to know if they have learned the secret yet. In the morning when the lights dim in the church and the only sound for half an hour are the creaking fans that circulate the air in this stone chapel—I want to ask them. But I stay silent. And I wonder.
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Brew
31 Days of Practicing Faith
In October, I am free writing for five minutes a day—raw and unedited—on practicing faith in the every day. Each day is based on a different prompt from 31 Days of Five Minute Free Writes.
{Day 4} - Brew
There’s something of ritual in it—the moment I hit that button and the tantalizing aroma begins to fill the air as the morning coffee brews. I didn’t like the taste of coffee until after college and then I would drink it on occasion. After I worked at a coffee shop all that changed.
The warmth of the mug in my hands, the creamy caramel color after the creamer mixes with the dark brew. I love all of these things. I look forward to my morning coffee but it is often poured into a travel mug as I rush out the door. School and work await.
But in the afternoons there is a slower pace. Sometimes my seven year old joins me, hot tea in her hands or trying to steal a sip of my sweet coffee. The kids know not to disturb me when I say “Just a few minutes, kids. I’m having my coffee.” It’s my sacred space, my time to unplug for a few minutes.
It’s a practice I have to work at even though I long for it—this slowing down. Like the caffeine that gets my brain working again, the still moments—if only as short as a five-minute coffee break—refuel my soul.
I turn the steaming cup up to my lips and breathe in. And then I exhale.
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Wardrobe
31 Days of Practicing Faith
In October, I am free writing for five minutes a day—raw and unedited—on practicing faith in the every day. Each day is based on a different prompt from 31 Days of Five Minute Free Writes.
{Day 3} - Wardrobe
I put off this day as long as I could. My old, comfortable jeans sat in a pile in the closet and I kept telling myself I would fit back into them soon. They started a little snug around the hips but then they became binding. I couldn’t deny it anymore. I had outgrown them.
I can’t stand shopping. I want to get in and get out, just get what I came for. I found a couple pairs of jeans that felt good. They are the staple of my wardrobe, what makes me feel the most like myself. I placed them in the bag and sighed. Another size bigger but at least I had clothes that fit again.
My practices of faith felt similarly restricting over the past few years. The ways I studied the Bible and worshiped didn’t feel big enough anymore. I fought it for as long as I could, just kept fitting myself into my old, tried and true ways.
When I finally admitted I had outgrown some of those practices, I found new ways that fit—new prayers that ignited my spirit and new ways to worship God in words and in silence.
Maybe a season will come when I fit into those old jeans again. Maybe not.
Maybe my writing will always be my prayer. Maybe it will just be for a season.
But I know this faith will always be the thing I live and move in, even if it looks a little different than before.
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Paint
31 Days of Practicing Faith
In October, I am free writing for five minutes a day—raw and unedited—on practicing faith in the every day. Each day is based on a different prompt from 31 Days of Five Minute Free Writes.
{Day 2} - Paint
Her hand moves across the page tentatively. She questions her stroke and hesitates. The line doesn’t look exactly like the picture she is copying and she gets angry at her lack of skill. She erases again and cries out in frustration.
I swoop in when I can tell my sweet child is being too hard on herself. She loves art but she gets caught up in what it should look like instead of just making something beautiful, something from her heart. She thinks it should look a certain way, just like someone else’s creation.
I tell her not to copy others, that she can make beautiful things. “Don’t worry, baby,” I try to say soothingly. “It looks beautiful. It doesn’t have to be perfect when you paint. Just create something. If it comes from you, it will be lovely.”
I can tell by the look on her face she is not so sure.
A few minutes lately she brings me the completed picture of a flower and it is beautiful. It is her own creation and the pride shines on her face. It is unique and special, like her.
I smile as she runs off to paint some more and laugh at how I need to take my own advice. How often she becomes my teacher.
I sit down to write and try to let go of perfection. I sit down to pray and try not to focus on how the words sound. I remember I am His perfect creation and He sees whatever I do as lovely.
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